


Hallowbit

by batherik



Series: Hobbit!Halloween AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Decapitation, Everyone survives being dead, F/M, Halloween AU, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batherik/pseuds/batherik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As simple pawn shop owner in the human world, Bilbo isn’t all that thrilled to find himself lost in Thorin’s magical undead kingdom. Lured there by an old man dressed in grey, who turned out to be a wizard, Bilbo is charged with doing a job no one wants to do: fetch the King’s head from the corn maze. The King often loses his head when his temper boils over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Clock

Bilbo was surprised that the ticking never put him to sleep.

His pawn shop certainly seemed like a sleepy place. It was small and cluttered like all pawn shops are, but considerably more clean. Bilbo applied great patience in thoroughly cleaning each new item of stock, and frequently dusted, vacuumed, wiped, and cleaned the place. It also distinctly smelled of whatever tea Bilbo brewed that day. Being a bit of a loose tea buff, his customers often came to sample whatever pot he had made that day, which he happily shared.

In fact, the tea and cleanliness seemed to be the major attraction of costumers. Most of his sales weren’t actually from people browsing the store, but from Bilbo’s suggestions as he chatted and drank with his visitors. And ate, of course, there could never be a lack of baked goods, most of which he made himself. Many wondered why he was running a pawn shop at all, and not a café.

Bilbo had inherited the shop from his father when he passed away a few years after his mother. He was raised in the pawn shop, and had learned much history of the old, the unique, and the fakes. Most of the books in his library were histories of _things_. Bilbo so enjoyed these books that he had left his small town years ago, after he first graduated from school, to study history. He was close to his undergraduate degree when his mother had died and he returned home to help his heartbroken father with the business and grief.

 It was close to closing hour, though, and there were no visitors or costumers who had walked through his door for quite some time. He had long ago drank his pot of tea and decided not to refill it. He had been drinking more as the weather went cold, and the chill of fall was starting to settle in full. He enjoyed the beautiful colours of autumn leaves, and generally loved sweaters and jackets, but was infinitely more partial to the warmth of summer.

The ticking came from an old Victorian clock, only about one and a half feet in height, probably an old anniversary present. It didn’t chime, but it kept track of not only minutes, hours, and seconds, but also the month and day. It was one of his favourite items in the store, and he had taken to using it as his calendar instead of the one at home which showcased images of rolling hills and warm spring weather that only taunted him as winter came. He had had the clock for quite some time, but the steep price kept it from ever being sold. Bilbo knew its worth, though, and never lowered its cost. And if it didn’t sell, well, it was no worry to him.

A chime directed his attention to the door, where an elderly man with an impressive beard and simple grey clothes had stepped through and was immediately interested by the items that surrounded him. Bilbo understood immediately that his man had an informed eye. He examined the clock carefully, which Bilbo noted read ten minutes until closing, but he felt no rush with his new visitor. The man was in a cheerful mood, nodding often and muttering lightly, apparently pleased with the items. When he did eventually turn his attention to Bilbo, Bilbo smiled brightly and folded his hands on the desk.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?” His cheer dulled a little when he noticed the customer’s eyes grew serious.

“I heard you offer very excellent tea, Mr. Baggins, I was would like to try a cup, if you would.”

Bilbo smiled lightly and regretfully told him, “I’ve run out of tea for today, I’m afraid. It’s very close to closing so I did not see it appropriate to make another pot. I do have some turnovers still, though, if you would like.”

“No, that’s quite alright. I won’t keep you here late, either, I’m sure there are excellent pots that have brewing to be done at home.”

Bilbo chuckled quietly at his humour, and asked, “Is there anything you’re looking for?”

Once again the stranger seemed to grow a little more serious, but not tense. “Yes, there is.”

Bilbo grew a little uneasy at the awkward pause. “Could I be of help?”

“Maybe,” mused the older man.

Another awkward pause: Bilbo tapped his foot nervously on the carpet and tried not to raise his eyebrows incredulously. Instead he accidentally made his expression seem worried, since the man continued, “No worries, my dear shop keeper, I will only browse briefly, and if I see it then I will see it.”

Bilbo smiled politely and nodded. The older gentleman continued his browsing, and Bilbo took the time to finish up the till count for the evening, waiting to see if another purchase will be added to his books. After only a couple of minutes, however, the man returned to the counter.

“Well, I’m not sure yet if I’ve found it, but I’ll come back tomorrow for quick visit and cup of your tea, if you don’t mind Bilbo Baggins.”

“I’d be delighted to see you again Mister, uh, oh my, you know my name but I quite forget to ask for yours. How very rude!” He admitted bashfully.

“Gandalf, Mr. Baggins, my name is Gandalf. Hopefully you will be brewing some black tea, I like a good but simple cup,” he said with a wink. He then left the store, letting the door close delicately behind him.

Bilbo thought the encounter a little strange but was not unnerving. He was finishing with his books, locking the till, and gathering his things when he noticed something that certainly was out of place: literally. Silence brought his attention to his missing clock. Bilbo swayed a moment in shock before words formed fully in his thoughts: _the old man stole my clock._ With a jolt he rushed out the door, looking around desperately, before realizing that he needed to lock his door, and when he was locking it he realized he needed to turn his lights off. Apparently panic did not overrule routine, and it was only when the shop was properly closed and his autumn cardigan and scarf in place that he then ran after the old man, whose back he could thankfully still see walking down the straight road of the village’s downtown core.

“Hey! Did you really think I wouldn’t notice my _clock_ was missing? There are a lot of smaller things you could have stolen!”

The grey back took a sharp turn left, and following him he entered the forest that funneled from the outskirts of the town into a park at its centre. Only a few yards inside, Bilbo stopped and doubled over. He was already sweaty and wheezing with the short ground he covered. He cursed his luck and bad shape, because now the old man in grey was gone. When he regained his breath somewhat, he walked into the woods, still looking for the man, and more importantly, his clock. He swore he could hear its ticking.

Eventually he came to a particularly large, gnarled, and dark tree. Despite the theft, he stopped to appreciate its ugly grandeur, putting his hands on his hips and sighing at the beast of a plant. His imagined ticking seemed to be louder as he drew near to the tree. As he circled the tree, however, he realized it wasn’t his imagination. Around the tree and at its base was his stolen clock. Bilbo considered the miracle with suspicion. Eventually he did pick up the clock, and found it to be in working with all its parts and no damage, as well as a note on the back that read _knock three times on the gnarl_.

 _Well_ , thought Bilbo, _there were a lot of gnarls_. He looked back up at the tree, however, and quickly found which one it obviously meant. In the middle of the tree’s girth and only half a foot above him was a large and flat gnarl that demanded attention. Moaning in suspicion, he realized that the old man was certainly queer, but had no reason to think him dangerous. Maybe it was just a game, and maybe the old man would leave him and his wares alone if he knocked. Certainly there could be no harm. Mustering all his humour, he knocked three times on the gnarl.

Immediately he was rooted to the ground in shock as the tree _uprooted_ itself. Three large limbs of roots pulled off and slithered out of the hard chilled ground and wrapped themselves around his ankles. His feet were then quickly pulled out from under him and his yell collapsed quickly as he was winded from the fall. There was a strong shrill of terror that ran through his body as he was dragged under the tree but it was brief. The roots pulled him under quickly and by the time he finally managed to scream it only echoed in pitch black cavern instead of escaping into the crisp open air.

As he fell and slid through the cavern his terror morphed to strong sense of surrealism. It felt distinctly like a dream. He automatically rubbed his eyes to wake to a drowsy morning and found the darkness blotted out by sunshine. He was becoming quite certain it was only a dream of a midday nap, but when he sat up on the yellow grass, he was looking down from a hill with crops and farms beneath him, and a great castle in the near distance. The castle was built with large, thick stones upon a rising hill and seemed like a sheer mountain above the harvest-ready farmlands.

The humour he mustered to knock on the gnarl had been quickly spent. Confused and now exasperated he let out a deep, guttural groan. He rubbed his eyes again and pulled his hair. The castle easily drew his attention, but now he looked more immediately around him, and noticed a nearby path leading through the crops and fields and supposedly towards the castle. Behind him was the old gnarled tree. He stuck his tongue out at it and wondered if knocking on the gnarl again would take him back. And—oh! His clock. Sitting neatly behind him was the gorgeous old clock, ticking in its familiar way.

He stood up with his clock and walked around the ugly tree, and much to his growing frustration found no similar gnarl to one he had just knocked on. He tried tapping a few others but the roots stayed bedded in the dirt. The next action seemed quite logically to follow the path, and so he did. He appreciated the calming, familiar clock more and more as he observed his surroundings more carefully. Firstly, he was concerned by the total lack of people. There was absolutely no one working the farms, and when he looked out over the main road into the castle, it was deserted. He knew his history well enough to know that medieval farms and a castle market should be bustling in the fall. The vegetables and grains were plentiful and mature but no one seemed concerned about harvesting them. A large pumpkin patch caught his attention in particular. It had the largest and well-rounded pumpkins he had ever seen, one he guessed he could even float in should he use it as a boat.

He was a petit man but fond of scenic walking; he quickly made it to the main road of the mountainous castle and considered its solid rock gate. He had absolutely no clue how any amount of people would be able to open or close such a gate. Then again, the whole place was probably deserted, he thought bitterly as he fastened his scarf more closely to his neck against a sudden chilled gust. He became absorbed in remembering old college classes and didn’t hear the clacking of horse hooves until they were nearly trampling him. The horse whinnied terribly and Bilbo turned in yelled. A great black horse with a braided orange mane and tail like fire reared and screamed, drowning out Bilbo’s own as he realized the rider, bulky and donning a vibrant and torn red cloak, was headless.

Bilbo fell over backwards and dropped the clock which was smashed into several pieces as the horse fell back the ground and trampled it. The ticking had stopped and Bilbo felt bloodless and horrified before the headless rider.


	2. The Castle Gate

The headless horseman directed the horse to circle around Bilbo a few times. He felt even smaller than usual, utterly frail and miniscule, as he trembled and pulled his scarf up over his gaping mouth. His eyes darted from the beacon red eyes of the horse and the rider, who managed to stare at him quite obviously despite being headless. The rider then suddenly jerked the reigns and commanded the horse off wards on a canter, disappearing quickly behind a corner.

It took Bilbo at least ten minutes to compose himself enough as to quarantine the trembling to his poor hands. Too terrified to even be frustrated anymore, he simply picked up the pieces of his clock and held them as a bundle between his cradling arms. He stood up with only a small bit of clumsiness and took several _very_ deep breathes. He tried to work his breathing down into his very veins and melt the ice-like feeling. He stumbled away from the castle and into a wheat field. The blades ran up to his shoulders and he could be completely hidden if he chose, which was a tiny comfort. He didn’t sit, though, but wandered unhurried towards the scarecrow in the center of the field. It seemed like a destination, but also, he realized halfway, he could borrow his jacket to hold what remained of the clock.

When he did reach the scarecrow it seemed entirely too handsome and well put together to borrow any piece of his ensemble. He admired the hay-stuffed figure leisurely, and when he felt his heart rate was back to normal, he decided to chat to it a little. “You’ve got an amiable face and good jacket, good fellow, but I have to wonder if that hat isn’t too heavy for the season.”

“Makes up for the scarf I lost a couple o’ years ago, dratted raven made off with it! Bit harder to scare than a crow, mind.”

Bilbo’s heart suddenly jumped back into his throat, but he managed to swallow it back much more easily this time. The friendly grin and interested demeanor of the scarecrow was much less terrifying than the horseman. “Oh, er, sorry to hear that,” he replied with minimal stuttering, “I’d offer you mine but it’s got some sentimental value, sorry.”

“Oy you’re a generous chap! No worries, no worries, kind of ya to even consider it! Honestly I’ve just been too lazy to go and get me a new one. Ah! You thought I was stuck here, didn’t ya? Naw, only during working hours. I do have a mind to walk off the job ev’ry once in a while, though – doesn’t pay all that well. But you’re a new face, eh?”

The scarecrow has so entirely friendly that Bilbo, graciously, was not afraid at all. He took a moment to sigh in relief before replying, “Yes, I am. No idea where I am. Doesn’t usually happen, but I think I took some very bad advice a moment or two ago. A bit of an unexpected adventure, I’m afraid. I’m Bilbo, by the way, Bilbo Baggins.”

The scarecrow laughed a little in good nature, “It’s a pleasure Bilbo, I’m Bofur, and welcome to the Lonely Castle. Yer human, right? Well, no worries, eh, ain’t no one here who will eat ya or anything so nasty. Though I would stay away from the King, mind, he’s got a bad temper. I’m mighty interested in how ya got here, because I can tell you it’s no easy trip back and forth. Don’t even know how to do it myself!”

Bilbo tried to not to groan for politeness but didn’t quite succeed. “It’s a very good pleasure, Bofur, but would you know who I could talk to you who _would_ know how I could get back?”

The scarecrow wondered aloud, and the look of puzzlement on his burlap face was comical. “I think there’s probably a few people in the castle who could help you. Should ask for Balin, he’s a good ol’ reliable sort.”

“Thank you. Do you, uh, know _how_ to get into the castle? It seems rather impenetrable.”

“Yup! The castle Erebor is built like a mountain, that’s for sure. But all you gotta do is knock on the gate three times. Not just anywhere, though, there’s this sort of gnarl near the centre, you’ll find it, I’m sure!”

“Yes, I think I can. And thank you Bofur, you’re good company.”

“I appreciate that, thanks! Bit too good of company, though, the crows don’t mind me nearly so much as my supervisor would like.”

Bilbo laughed and waved as well as he could with his armful of clock. He set back out to the gate and knocked on the distinctive gnarl. It wasn’t the whole gate that opened, but small door suddenly appeared in the sheer rock and let him pass through to the inner grounds of the castle village. It was, again, quite desolate and uninhabited, but there were still signs of prosperous activity about. The stables were full of rich looking hay and gorgeous horses. None of them were as scary as that of the headless rider, but one was painted with its skeleton on its hide. It made it look more like a Halloween fair pony than anything, though. The wells were almost overflowing with clear water and the forges seemed hot and active.

He found the door to the main castle manor easily. It was a great strong pair of oaken doors probably twice his size if not more. They still seemed practical compared to the stone gate, and he hesitated only slightly on the bronze knocker. It took more than a few seconds before the door creaked open and the teenager who answered it squinted bleary eyed and drowsy in the sunlight. He was impatient in the doorway, shying away from the light as much as possible and rapidly bit, “What? Who are you? Are you coming in? State your whatever.”

The boy seemed like a totally normal teenager, and this took Bilbo aback more than his rudeness. His hair was the colour of milk chocolate and almost just as smooth, with the slightest bit of stubble on his chin and cheek that seemed like a pathetic attempt to make him look older than he really was. He couldn’t quite make out his clothes from behind the doors, though. “I’m pretty seriously turned around and I was told I should go to the castle and ask for Balin?”

“Yeah, ok, Balin,” the boy retreated completely into the darkness and pulled a single door open all the way. Bilbo went in and found it much less dark on the other side than he thought it was. Candelabras were plentiful and it was warmer inside the stone walls, although not considerably so. He heard the shut of the door as he looked around the castle, trying to find more oddities, but it seemed like a completely ordinary medieval castle: worn red carpets on dirty stone floors, lines of empty suits of armour and mounted weapons, and hard plain wooden furniture.

He turned around to face the boy who let him in and introduced himself more formally as Bilbo Baggins. The boy blearily replied his name was Kili while rubbing his eyes. They quickly readjusted to the light, however, and grew about twice as large as he took Bilbo in. Kili was dressed in an anachronism of a regality outfit complete with cravat and tails. “You’re a human!” he shouted with enthusiasm. Bilbo recoiled from his excited grin which revealed two very long and sharp canine teeth.


	3. The Deal

Once again Bilbo was struggling to keep calm and suppress the rising panic. He frantically imagined why a vampire would be so excited to meet a human and bare those sharp, long, and very white teeth. But he remembered Bofur’s words, _no one here who will eat ya or anything so nasty_ , and tried to relax his body. Meanwhile the boy had begun to rattle away excitedly,

“I’ve never met a human before, and I’ve been asking to go every year to the human world, but my mom says I’m too young, but Fili has gone twice now! I’m almost an adult though and maybe I’ll get to go this year, Fili told me uncle was thinking about it. Oh! Maybe you could vouch for me! They think I’d act inappropriately with humans but if I show I’m mature around you then they can’t say no! It’s so good to meet you, how did you even get here? You said you needed to see Balin, right? Oh sorry!”

Kili had taken Bilbo’s hand to shake but forced him to drop half of his clock in the gesture. Kili quickly swooped down to pick the pieces up with one arm, and linked his other with Bilbo, each carrying half the clock. He continue to chat away about how unfair it was that he was always treated like a baby as he pulled Bilbo through the castle and up the stairs.

When he reached the second landing the décor took a strong change. It was no longer a typical medieval castle, but a mix of centuries of furniture and fixtures. There were gas lamps and rococo buffets lined with popular board games, a couple of typewriters, and a Disney themed chess set. A phonograph sat on baroque side table and on a gorgeous art deco sofa were what may have been colonial pillows. He couldn’t help but add up the value of the items and pick out the more precious pieces. He spotted a jewellery box on one of the buffets and almost pulled himself aside to look inside. When Kili dragged him past what seemed to be an authentic Degas he just about whimpered.

Finally Kili stopped dragging him and handed him back the rest of his broken clock. He was still talking, now sharing his plan to one day see a movie in a cinema and was bouncing around ideas of what kind of movie to watch. He suddenly turned the question on Bilbo and asked him what his favourite genre was.

“Oh, well, I like dramas best. But everyone needs a good action movie once in a while.”

“That’s great! I’ll definitely see an action movie. Something big and loud, it’s way too quiet here.”

“You’re right, it is. I’ve walked through the farms and castle courtyard and only met you and a scarecrow, um, not counting a headless horseman.”

Kili laughed loudly at his last mention, “You met him, did you? My uncle?”

“The horseman? Yes, he scared me quite badly, not many headless people in the human world. Sometimes you wonder if they have a head, sure, but they’re never literally without their brains.”

“Happy you met him without his head, honestly, he’s scarier with it. Anyways, it’s Balin you wanted, right? I’ll go see if he’s busy. He’s a councilman so he usually is, but I’ll keep you company while you wait.”

Kili grinned and waved with enthusiasm while he ran off down a passageway, almost bumping over a gorgeous art nouveau vase which made Bilbo cringe badly. As soon as Kili disappeared he set down the remainder of his clock and immediately began inspecting the things around him. He realized the Degas was not authentic but a very good copy meant to be a special collector’s edition which had its own worth. The jewellery box was as promising as he hoped, filled with the same mismatch of eras. He wished desperately he spent more time learning his precious jewels.

“What are you, a burglar?”

Bilbo jumped, squeaked, and quickly shut the jewellery case. He spun around nervously and the speaker barked in laughter. He tried to let this reassure him but the sight of a laughing skeleton was not so comforting.

“Naw, a decent thief wouldn’t have been so startled.” The skeleton wore a black robe that reminded Bilbo of the grim reaper. More peculiar was his long red hair and beard and grew attached to his skull and intricately braided.

“No, I’m – I – I’m Bilbo Baggins. I run a pawn shop you see, I was just curious, like all good pawn shop owners.”

“Pawn shop? Good. Useful places. More likely a place a thief would take his wares than own.” The skeleton nodded to him and reclined roughly into a loveseat. Wincing again at the poor treatment of the furniture, Bilbo also took a seat in a nearby armchair. “Haven’t seen anyone else here, have you? Supposed to meet my brothers.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Only Kili, who’s gone off to see if Balin was busy. He mentioned having a brother, though, but I think it’s just the one.”

“Yeah, Kili and Fili. There’s a council happening but I don’t think you need to wait much longer.”

The two sat in silence and Bilbo fidgeted with his broken clock pieces. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Nori.”

Bilbo nodded, finding the silence between them increasingly awkward.

From down the passageway the sound of chatter rose and approached. Bilbo guessed that whatever council must have let out because a fairly large group of people were all arguing mildly and walking towards the landing. Now used to the macabre citizens of the Lonely Castle he took them in with interest. He spotted Kili chatting excitingly to who he guessed was his brother. Blond and wearing thick furs, they still looked alike. Bilbo gagged slightly at one man with grey hair tied up with braids as intricate as Nori but was very obviously rotting, with gaping sores, exposed bone, and a missing arm. Leading the party was someone wrapped in bandages, thankfully clean, with only parts of his skin exposed a great white fish-tailed beard poking out. He couldn’t quite make out the others in the back but one man was incredibly large and covered with stitches, his skin mismatched and bolted as to seem sewn together.

Nori got up from the loveseat and greeted the rotting zombie (apparently one of his brothers) and walked away from the party together. Kili dragged Fili to Bilbo right away and introduced them. Up close Bilbo noticed his brother also had pointed teeth, but they were wolfish and his hairy hands with pointed nails helped give him away as a werewolf. Fili greeted him with equal enthusiasm as Kili and proved to be just as enthusiastic, although less chatty. The two of them then dragged him over to the mummy who turned out to be Balin and he explained his situation.

“That’s quite a strange tale, lad, but I don’t think I’m the one who you want to talk to.”

“Who would I be talking too, then?” he replied.

Balin batted the large, stitched man away for hovering in on the conversation, explained him briefly as his brother Dwalin, and got the attention of someone who was hidden behind the giant man. An old man in grey robes stepped into the conversation.

“Hello again, Bilbo, glad to see you made it alright.”

Bilbo gaped at him and felt his frustration and anger return since he met the rider at the gate.

“You! This is your fault! You stole my clock! Now look at it!” He held up the gathered remains. “This is your fault! This was a very valuable piece! Why did you even trick me here? How do I get back? Were you even looking for anything in my shop other than something to steal?”

Gandalf was only amused by the accusations. “ _I_ broke your clock? I believe I returned it to you in all one piece, Mr. Baggins, it’s not my doing that it’s broken to several since then. You were also the one who knocked on the gnarl. I did not know a note asking someone to knock on an old oak tree was now considered deceit.”

Bilbo felt the frustration boiling over. “There’s no way I can fix this clock! I should be making you pay for it, but if you return me home I would find that happy enough!”

The rest of the party had their full attention on the two and Gandalf scratched his beard in thought. “I certainly don’t mean to keep you here, my good man, should you like to return I will gladly tell you how. But, although the broken clock isn’t my fault, I could still help you with that.”

“ _Are_ you going to help me with it?”

“I’ll make you deal, master Baggins. We have a favour that needs doing, and if do it, then I shall fix the clock back to exactly how it was.”

Bilbo groaned loudly, “How are you going to fix it back? It’s completely ruined!”

“I am a wizard, master Baggins, I can fix it back exactly.” The others nodded and murmured in agreement and some even gave him reassurance.

Bilbo considered it. It was a valuable clock, but if it was only money he wanted, he could probably bargain for another item in the room. Seeing their treatment of the items they didn’t seem all that attached. However it was more than the money. He had had that clock in his shop for a long time now and would miss its ticking. It was a lovely piece that deserved to be restored, and if the task wasn’t all that arduous, it would be worth it. “What would I have to do?”

Gandalf smiled in delight. “Very good Bilbo! You see, a few days ago, there was a small argument on the terrace and the King lost his head. He has a bit of a temper, you see, and it needs reuniting with his body.”

Bilbo looked at him in disbelief, “He _lost his head_? You mean literally? He literally lost his head? Was that his body riding around on the horse? How far did it roll when it came off as to have gotten lost?”

A loud burst of laughter came from behind him. He turned and a pleasant looking woman with dark hair and keen eyes had walked up beside him. The only thing bizarre around her was her outfit. Striped stockings, a pointed hat, buckles, and a black dress identified her as a witch. She put her arm around his shoulder, and easy feat as she was a tall woman and he was quite a small man. “Usually it’s very easy to find my brother’s head! He’s a loud one and will make quite a fuss until it’s back in its proper place. But he’s too proud to accept help, you see, and while his body tried to get it back, well, he kicked it right off the terrace and into the corn maze!” She then burst into more laughter and doubled over, even wiping tears.

Bilbo quickly calculated the relations he knew and guessed that this sister of the King must be the mother of Kili and Fili. It was a bit hard to believe such a friendly and boisterous family would have an uncle with such a demeanor and wondered if they were exaggerating a little. An apple doesn’t taste so tart until you eat with berries. “The corn maze? Where is it?”

Dis introduced herself and confirmed his genealogical math as she guided him to the terrace. When he looked over the railing he saw a massive corn maze, easily the size of the entire downtown core of his village, much likely bigger. He laughed nervously a little and considered again if this was really worth it, but the weight of the broken clock in his arms felt very heavy. The head couldn’t have been kicked very far, could it? “Alright, I’ll fetch the King’s head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if you didn't get to see your favourite member of the company this chapter, we will eventually meet them all along with some others. But the next couple chapters or so will be Thorin and Bilbo centric.


	4. King's Head

“And why had no one gone to fetch the King’s head earlier?”

Bilbo had handed the remains of his clock to Gandalf and now stood at the entrance of the corn maze with Dis.

“Well, like I said, Mr. Baggins, he’s very loud and we could all use a break. We were actually just talking about sending someone to look for the head in our council just now. But it has been a few days and he’s going to be even more miserable than usual.”

Bilbo gave her a very unimpressed look, “So you’re shifting the unpleasant work onto me, then?”

Dis laughed lightly, “Well it’s Gandalf who shifted it onto you, but it’s a fine arrangement I think.” She tapped her foot as she considered Bilbo. “I’m sure he’ll be even less happy about being fetched by a stranger but it’s not like he could refuse. He’s a grumpy and old King but he won’t bite. Well, probably not, but feel free to carry him by his hair if you want.”

Bilbo imagined a wrinkled and grey old man with a foul temper and foul mouth, not unlike his own great-uncle or two. “Why hasn’t his body gone into the maze to find the head? It seems to be able to move and ride alright.”

Dis rolled her eyes and sighed for effect, “His body is a great oaf and I wouldn’t trust it in a maze even with a guide. If it circled you on that horse like you said then I’m surprised it didn’t trample you. It’s horribly clumsy but still better company than his head.”

Bilbo nodded and smiled in earnest amusement. He liked Dis although he was put off at first by her boisterous and loud laughter. “Well, I guess I should get started, then. I’d rather be home by supper, but it’s a big maze.”

“Don’t get lost, Bilbo, although if you do, we’ll more happily send a search team to look for you than my brother.”

“Is he really that bad?”

Dis looked away bashfully and admitted, “No, but he used to be a lot better, you see. Before he first lost his head he was a lot more pleasant and I think a lot of us just miss that. Well, go on your way, Bilbo, you’ll see for yourself anyways.”

“Yes, alright, and thank you,” he waved and gave a weak smile before entering the maze.

If Bilbo was solving the maze it would be much easier. But instead he had to search every inch of it for the lost head and knew right away it would terribly difficult to avoid being turned around. He thought he might be able to cut through the corn to avoid the confusion somewhat but in most places it was much too thick to even stick his arm between the stalks. As he walked through the corn maze he was disappointed to find the castle’s terrace hidden behind the corn rows, making the search even harder. He had a break though when he successfully managed to climb the stalks and was able to navigate himself to the area where the head would have most likely landed.

He must have searched an hour before some crows fly overhead, crying harshly and perching in the stalks. It broke the monotony of the search and Bilbo decided to take a short break. He pinched his bridge, rubbed his eyes, and loosened his scarf from his neck. The sky had tinted the slightest pink and Bilbo slapped his forehead in realizing that he would have to search in the dark at this rate. He should have gone into the corn maze the next morning or at least asked for a flashlight. Even if he went back to the entrance before night fall he wouldn’t recall his progress exactly and would be forced to recover the ground the next day. In all the surrealism of the land he failed to calculate the mundane. At least he didn’t feel hungry yet.

Now feeling more exhausted than before the break he got up again and continued to walk through the maze. He wondered just how strongly the body could have kicked the head, and how it managed to kick it over the railing and into the maze at all if by accident. He bitterly wondered if it wasn’t an accident or if it was even the fault of the body. As a few more crows flew overhead he thought that there surely must be another scarecrow in the corn maze. He was comforted by the hope that maybe Bofur had a shift in the corn maze.

The corn maze was impressive, but like all corn mazes, it lost its charm quickly. He was sick of the smell of the corn ears and wondered if he would hear the head before he saw it. No head could yell all the time and it could even be sleeping. He decided to call for it nonetheless, “King! King’s head! Hello, King?” He only then realized he never asked the name of the king. It seemed rude to just call him King, but maybe using his name would be too casual or royalty anyways, “Your majesty! Can you hear me?”

Bilbo called as he took a few more turns in the maze but quickly ran out of breath for the task. Another turn led him to a dead. By now the sky was already a fiery sunset and so he sat down and groaned in frustration, “Blast the bloody King and his corn!”

A cool breeze chewed at his face and he pulled his scarf higher and tighter, glad he had a proper and whole neck to hold him together. In the wind he heard muttering as it rustled through the corn stalks and skated on the bare ground. Another mutter picked up with the wind, “Are you deaf? I said I’m down here!”

Bilbo froze and tried to rewind that last mutter. He called out again, “King?”

“What kind of address is that? Blast you! I’m down here!”

Bilbo shot back up on his feet and looked around him. To one side the corn stalks were much less thick than usual, sparse enough that he could pass through. When he observed the ground it he realized it rolled downhill. Carefully he picked his way through the stalks and found a pocket in the corn stalks like a bowl. It was about five meters across and only a fourth so deep. He picked his footing carefully has he walked downhill and towards the center, “Your majesty?”

“That’s better! Now pick me up!”

His excitement growing Bilbo looked around the bowl for the speaker, “Where are you?”

“What, are you deaf and blind as well? Wonderful, I’m always blessed with such good luck.”

Spinning around Bilbo pinpointed the voice to a soft, brownish lump. He stalked closer to it and realized it was thick hair that camouflaged the head. He circled it until the found the front of face, lying on his side, with his eyes glaring at him.

“Finally! Finally that you found me and finally that someone bothered to look. Now pick me up off the ground, I’ve tasted enough dirt these past few days.”  
Bilbo was petrified. The head was muffled as he spoke halfway into the dirt, but the sight of the animated head looking, speaking, breathing, was utterly the most horrible thing he had ever observed. He preferred the company of the body and felt twice as weak and pale than when it circled him upon the horse. He knew he was trembling badly but it was taking all his effort to not pass out cold.

The head at first seemed annoyed and severe, but his expression softened as he realized the situation, “I don’t know what a human is doing in my kingdom but you should sit down in case you collapse.”

Bilbo obeyed and after a few minutes of breathing deeply and recovering he managed to get a little closer to the head. The king kept his expression neutral while Bilbo brushed his hair off his face and gathered the courage to left his head. Eventually he did so, and held the head squarely facing him but as far away from his body as possible.

“Have you had time to adjust yet?” The head was obviously impatient and Bilbo felt queasy again with the horror. It was just more bearable than at first though, and slowly Bilbo titled the head around to different angles to adjust more fully to the absurd grotesqueness.  
“I think I’m about good, thank you.” He answered at last.

“Excellent, because I demand to know who you are and why you are trespassing in my kingdom.”  
Bilbo could only blink in surprise. He expected the king to be grumpy but he thought at least his ire would be directed at his council, “Trespassing? If you would like to know why I am trespassing then ask your bloody wizard! My name is Bilbo Baggins and I was sent to fetch you in exchange to have my clock fixed, which was broken by your blasted body!”

The king spluttered and his face grew red and hot with indignation, “FOR A _CLOCK_? YOU CAME TO GET ME FOR A _CLOCK_?” His anger was fierce alright, but Bilbo quickly realized what Dis meant that he wouldn’t be able to resist being carried. As a severed head the king was completely helpless and it was an easy alleviation for whatever fear the king may have been able to induce otherwise.

The king yelled and rattled about the disrespect and Bilbo did feel a bit bad that he was trading someone’s head for a clock. It was a rather nice clock, though. “Look, your Majesty, why don’t we both return to the castle and you can yell at your subjects about this instead of me.”

The king did calm down a bit at that but his face was still set in a grimace, “Yes, human, that’s a sensible plan, but we can’t.”  
Bilbo stared at him in confusion, “What do you mean we can’t?”

“Do I look like a king to you?” he snapped. Bilbo wasn’t sure what he meant, and for a second wondered if he had the wrong head. He looked at his features carefully and admitted internally they were rather handsome and younger than he had expected.  
“Do you mean the dirt on your face and hair?” he replied.

“What – no! How dirty am I? I mean my crown, human! I lost it when I was kicked over into this maze!” Bilbo observed a nasty bruise on the right side of his head. “We need to recover my crown first.”

Bilbo tried his absolutely hardest not to groan this time, and while he succeeded, he was sure his face was the picture of disgust. “What does your crown look like?”  
“If you don’t know it when you see it then it would be a terrible crown,” he bit.

Bilbo couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that, “Do you have any idea where to look?” The head scoffed. This time Bilbo couldn’t help groaning.  
“Oh yes, I’m sorry, what a terrible burden for you, human. If you don’t think my crown and head is worth the trouble for your clock then go ahead and put me back down, but I have a message for my trusted council if you do go.” He pronounced the last bit so bitterly that Bilbo gave him his quick reassurance as to not hear the message.

“No, I’ll look for your crown! But you’ll have to at least tell me your name first.”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield of the Durin line to the throne of Erebor.”

“I only needed your name, but pleasure meeting you.”

Once again the head glared at him but swallowed whatever retort, “Let’s go then.”

Bilbo took a couple steps but found it entirely too awkward. He wasn’t sure how to hold the head but he couldn’t walk around the maze with his arms extended out in front of him. He also decided against Dis’ advice to carry him by his hair. Instead he turned the head around and walked a few paces with it against his stomach. He found this also awkward, and when he turned the head back around Thorin had an expression of total disgust and rage, “Uh, how should I carry you?”

“Maybe like you carry your _clock_ ,” the sarcasm and anger was thick and measured but Bilbo found it good advice. He cradled the head in his arms and found it much more natural. Thorin, though, protested immediately, “Not like some pet! Hold me with some dignity!”

“This is the best I can think of, so unless you’d rather I take your sister’s advice and carry you by your hair, then suggest something more useful or go with it!”

“I’d rather you not follow any of Dis’ advice, especially concerning me!” Thorin’s mouth twisted as he considered the predicament and finally decided, “Alright, fine, go on with this. Your hands are too small to carry me properly anyways, I realize.”

Bilbo had a very strong urge to drop the bloody head, “What do you mean my hands are too small? Ridiculous!”

“When you held my head before it felt more like you were caressing me than holding,” he answered.

This time Bilbo did drop the head and even took a couple steps away before Thorin yelled back, “No! Wait! Come back! Human come back!”

Bilbo spun on the spot, “What a disgusting thing to say!”

“I only meant your hands were small and rather soft, not that you were doing anything inappropriately. A bit like a mouse.”  
“A mouse! Now you’re calling me small!”

“I’m not saying anything you shouldn’t know!”

Bilbo straightened his back indignantly and held his hands on his hips, “Maybe you’re not worth my clock.”

“No! Come back, please!”

Now Bilbo was amused, “You said please?” he teased.

Thorin’s mouth twisted again, actually ashamed, “Yes, human, please.”

Thorin was so disgusted by the courtesy that Bilbo laughed. The king was simply too ridiculous to take his insults seriously, “Alright, let’s go find your crown.” He picked up the head again and this time tried to cradle him with a bit more dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BABY COME BACK YOU CAN BLAME IT ALLL ON MEE


	5. Lonely, Lonely Castle

Bilbo was trying to find paths through the maze that he hadn’t already taken. Obviously he would have noticed a crown if he had walked past it already. The sunset had swelled to a deep bloody hue and once again he was worried about twilight.

“It’s going to be dark soon, maybe we should go back to the castle and you can look for your crown tomorrow when you’ll have more light?”

“No, my crown needs to be found immediately.”

“That’s going to be extremely hard in the pitch black.”

“The moon will give plenty of light to search by.”

Bilbo wanted to pull out his hair but even worse would be hearing Thorin complain about being put down again. He came again to another dead end and sighed, “Is it really so bad to wait until you get your crown back?”

“Yes, it is, and you will not argue on this point again.”

He considered tossing the head up and down a few times to persuade him but he was too tired by now to listen to more yelling. Maybe he had enough energy in him to drag the head out of the maze, yelling and protesting and all, if it meant getting out of the maze sooner. Another pot of tea and some fresh scones were desperately needed. He wondered what kind of retribution the king might take once he was whole again should he take him back crownless.

“I was just sent to get your _head_. I don’t think I need to help you find your crown for me to have my clock fixed. Surely you’re not so proud that you could bear to be seen one night uncrowned? You’d probably find it faster whole than I would.”

“Pride is not the reason I need to find my crown. It has a practical urgency.”

“Really? What practical urgency?”

“It probably would have been better for you to find my crown and return it than my head. I _prefer_ my head but it’d be better appreciated if it was the crown you returned.”

“Why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, especially considering you’re a trespasser, human.”

“It’s especially because I’m a trespassing human that I ask so many questions.”

Thorin actually laughed at that and said, “Fair.”

Bilbo was looking down at the head in his arms now. This forced him to walk slower but he was interested, “You’re surprisingly candid, though, I would never have guessed you would have actually told me your crown was more important than your head.”

“That’s not what I said and nor was that a real compliment.”

“Still, I will help you find your crown,” he replied.

“I appreciate your flexibility,” he answered.

Thorin was silent for a while. When he reached a decision he said, “I’ll answer what are surely some questions of yours in return.”

Bilbo was taken aback a little by his consideration but nodded despite Thorin being unable to see it, “That’d be excellent.”

“The first thing you should know if that my kingdom was not always so small. When we were alive my rule was over rivers, hills, quarries, and plains. Mostly it centered a huge lake which I miss the most of my lost kingdom. There was a legend that a sea serpent lived in it; an old dragon that had his wings ruined by arrows and lived in the underwater cave under a small island.” Bilbo laughed good naturedly at the anecdote but it didn’t bother Thorin, “I actually hunted for that serpent as a child. I almost drowned when I capsized my boat when I was eleven.”

“You’re lucky, I know people who have actually drowned from boats flipping.”

“I ended up being most unlucky as you can tell. There was a rebellion, nothing big, just a radical group. They had no support from the peasantry or upper class and so I refused to pay any attention to them out of pride. But they got the support of a Necromancer and he put a curse of the undead on my kingdom. All my people became terrified of the rebels and they managed to take control executed me. Well, like all the undead, I rose again. Eventually the Necromancer was killed and while that stopped him from _controlling_ the undead, it did not undo his magic.” Thorin sighed heavily and sadly, “As it turns out, there’s not only magic in the world, but it has rules. A cursed kingdom cannot stay in the human world. Only my castle was the battleground of the rebellion and only there were we cursed so my castle was separated and now exists in its own realm. A Lonely Castle, separated from its kingdom,” he ended sadly.

“What happened to all the undead, though? I’ve only met a handful but you said the whole castle was cursed?”

“What do you mean? Oh? Maybe you can’t see them as a human. Most of my subjects became ghosts, shells of their lives totally unable to cope with their new predicament. They go about their duties and business as when they were alive, but they are complete unaware of their deaths. We call them the spectres.”

“Can you talk with them? Or interact at all?”

Thorin paused before he answered sadly, “Only while wearing the crown. And even then they won’t understand you when you try to inform them of their passing or curse.”

Bilbo was sobered by the response and let silence build between them. He focused more intently on looking for the crown and glanced uneasily at the darkening sky. He managed to find a new group of paths he hadn’t covered yet but none of them produced the crown. At the last dead end he took a break he propped Thorin’s head on the top of his knees, balancing it with his hands. He was looking into Thorin’s eyes with much less distance now than when they first met. After catching his breath he asked, “How long ago did you lose your kingdom?”

Thorin was also more relaxed than when they first met. Or, at least he wasn’t grimacing, glaring and yelling, “I don’t know how long ago it was, only that it’s been centuries. I usually return to the human world annually for short visits. It changes so quickly while my realm is so static it feels like mockery.”

Bilbo imagined the centuries of being out of place and alone in the frozen realm. He remembered all the mismatched furniture, probably picked up all those visits either for practical reasons or just as some small attempt to make his cursed castle change and move with time.

Suddenly a murder of crows sprang out from the stalks from behind Bilbo and screamed terribly at them. Bilbo yelped and jumped his skin and the head fumbled to the ground. Thorin was much less shocked by the crows than he was by being bounced and dropped into Bilbo’s lap. Looking back up at the sky and the retreating crows Bilbo bit his lip at final bit of disappearing sunlight. Bilbo gathered Thorin again and sprang back onto his feet, “What could have scared those crows so suddenly!”

“How did those crows scare _you_ so badly?!” Thorin demanded, his grumpy anger had obviously returned.

“What does your crown look like?” Bilbo asked, too distracted to notice.

“What? Don’t dodge the question, I thought we went over—”

“No, I mean, are there jewels? Does it shine at all?”

“Well—Yes, of course there are some gems, mostly rubies.”

Without another word Bilbo darted into the stalks and tried to force his way through. Thorin was battered by the corn and complain _very_ loudly but Bilbo was too determined to listen.

“ _What are you doing—Human I—OUCH – Blast you stop—BLEH—  !!”_

Finally Bilbo had forced his way through the last of the stalks and found another opening like the bowl. A couple more crows took off screaming. In the clearing was a small pile of crow loot. There were mostly mirror shards and some polished silverware in the pile along with stray beads, earrings, eyepieces, and a dagger even.

“Ah! The crown! Do you see it? There on the left!” blurted Thorin. Bilbo spotted the crown. It was mostly plain and of bare grey metal but there were some jewelled adornments. The center of the crown was a grimacing face with ruby eyes and a jagged mouth like a jack-o-lantern. On either side of it were two bat-like ears followed by fangs which were polished to a reflective shine.

“Yes alright I see it!” he replied and quickly circled the horde to retrieve it. He placed Thorin’s head on the ground gently and crowned him to his instruction. He looked very regal with the crown and Thorin even smiled handsomely, “ _Now_ let’s get you back on your body.”

From above the screaming of crows approached, and looking up he saw a murder of twenty crows circling them. At least ten more joined as the lowered closer, screaming and crying louder and more horribly. Swearing softly, Bilbo quickly and unceremoniously picked up Thorin’s head and darted out of the clearing, crashing and toppling corn stalks. Just as Bilbo burst back onto the main path of the maze the crows descended and began to attack.


	6. King and Clock Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally see Thorin in one piece.

The crows were scratching and pecking at either of Bilbo’s side and back but so long as he could keep running he was safe. Adrenaline kept him moving despite the exhaustion that very quickly felt. As he pivoted each corner with several side steps and tried to lengthen his small stride he felt his lungs drowning with the exertion. It was embarrassing how badly out of shape he was and he might have been embarrassed that Thorin was there as a witness to it but the head was much more preoccupied with yelling profanities at the crows.

The task was made even harder by the now total lack of light. He tried to pick his way through the maze as well as he could in the darkness and prayed the crows would give up soon. But, inevitably, his foot did catch on some night-hidden obstacle and Bilbo hit the grown and rolled. The crows were now able to peck at him freely and Bilbo pulled Thorin’s head into his stomach and protected it. The crown dug into his skin and whatever Thorin was yelling at him was muffled by Bilbo’s body and the screams of the crows. The murder attacked in sharp brief cuts and jabs but his luck turned quickly,

“Away, the lot of ya! _AURRGH!!_ Yea, that’s right, off!”

There was loud fluttering of wings and the quieting of cries and Bilbo looked up. Bofur was grinning broadly at him and holding Bilbo’s scarf that he lost in the tumble.

“Glad it didn’t take long to find ya. Lady Dis didn’t want you to think you had to wander the maze all night and sent me to fetch ya for supper,” Bofur informed him.

Bilbo’s stomach growled at the mention of dinner, “Oh, thank you Bofur,” and remembering Thorin he got up and held the head out in the air, “You alright?”

Thorin was gulped down air and scoffed, “Are _you_ alright? You’re _bleeding!_ ”

Bilbo looked over himself and realized the crows had cut and punctured his skin and clothes in several places but he wasn’t too badly injured and smiled reassuringly at Thorin. Bofur wrapped Bilbo’s scarf around his neck for him since his hands were preoccupied, “Thanks Bofur. Do you know the way out?”

“Don’t you worry Bilbo, I know all these fields, it’s my job. Though I’m not usually asked to keep the crows outta this one, there’s enough corn to go around, big as it is,” he winked at Bilbo, “Let’s get you bandaged up. Oh, and get the king in one piece, too, of course!” Thorin only rolled his eyes.

* * *

 

Dis and the others had greeted Thorin cheerily when they got back but Thorin only grunted and answered, “Yeah, right,” under his breath. Kili and Fili were sent off to find his body and in the meanwhile Bilbo set Thorin’s head on an old Jacobean stand nearby. He sat on the art deco sofa while the castle physician was sent for and Dis was explaining dinner,

“Our chef is named Bombur and he’s very excited, hasn’t cooked for a human in _years_. He still cooks for fun but he says it’s wasted on the dead.”

“It sounds great, thank you so much, I didn’t even realize I was hungry until Bofur mentioned food,” he replied.

“So where’s your _clock_ ,” interrupted Thorin.

“It’s right here, master Thorin,” answered Gandalf who had entered subtly and Thorin hopped in surprise but quickly composed and glared at the wizard.

“Oh, you’ve fixed it already! Thank you, I suppose I should apologize for not believing you,” Gandalf passed Bilbo his clock, back in one piece, and Bilbo rotated it in his hands making sure to check it all over. He felt the engraving on the feet and corners with his thumbs and tweaked the clock hands. He pressed the clock against his face and listened to the ticking, just listened.

“Well I’m glad that’s sorted but I also wouldn’t mind being fixed,” said Thorin bitterly, looking at Bilbo jealously.

Dis waved him off as someone new approached. He had wild grey hair and a beard. It flared off in all directions like it was electrified; including two braids in his beard that split and curled off in opposite directions. He wore thick goggles and black rubber gloves along with a white doctor’s jacket that bore mysterious and ominous stains. Bilbo wasn’t quite able to place how he fit into the theme. He realized with some embarrassment and shame they weren’t meant to be some sort of spooky holiday roster but actual, bizarrely cursed deceased humans.

“Bilbo, this is Oin. He’s a bit of a mad scientist but he’s an excellent physician foremost,” introduced Dis.

“So this him, eh? Not a bad bit o’ a scuffle you had with those ravens, but I’ll have you fixed up,” said Oin.

“It was crows, not ravens, dear Oin,” corrected Dis.

“Eh?” he chirped but not really interested. He already had his kit open and was wiping all the blood off Bilbo’s cuts. After he pocketed the bloodied handkerchief (with suspicious interest and care) he dabbed thick blots of a greenish lather onto them. It didn’t sting but did warm up his wounds a little while Oin placed adhesive bandages over the spots, “There, done, not much to treat. Still, lad, I’d sleep on my stomach for a while, give your back a break.”

“Thank you very much Oin,” Bilbo answered and felt his sore back gingerly and the rips in his clothes with some regret, “I’ll be sure to do just that.”

Oin closed up his kit and placed one hand into his pocket with the handkerchief and gave an excuse to be off before telling Bilbo it was a pleasure to meet him, a sentiment Bilbo returned politely.

“What happened to Gandalf?” observed Bilbo with a start.

“Never what I wish would happen,” answered Thorin dryly.

It wasn’t long after that Kili and Fili came back dragging Thorin’s body by both arms.

“Nooo, uncle, in here!” yelled Kili struggling to pull the body up and past the stairs.

“OI! YOU BLOODY OAF! GET IN HERE!” Thorin’s head roared at his own body. It startled Bilbo enough to cover his ears. “CAN’T GET A DAMN THING RIGHT! COULDN’T EVEN PICK UP YOUR OWN HEAD!” he continued. The body cowered from the yelling and tried to pull away more desperately.

“Is it… Is it actually trying to get away from its own head?” questioned Bilbo in amazement to no particular person.

“It’s probably just trying to avoid a scolding,” answered Dis rolling her eyes.

Bilbo put his clock beside him on the sofa and got up to help the two brothers. He put his hand on the arm Kili was trying to tear off, “It’s alright, mistakes happen. If you try to get away now I’m sure your head would just be even angrier.”

The body suddenly pulled his arms upwards and both brothers were pulled off their feet and landed flat on their stomachs. Like a lit match the body then hopped behind Bilbo and tried to hide behind him, “NO YOU DON’T! DON’T USE THE HUMAN! GET OVER HERE!” shouted Thorin.

Bilbo took the body’s hand and guided him over to its head, “You should apologize for kicking your head.”

Bilbo let go of the body’s hand and it wrung them as it stood there awkwardly before it bowed forward in apology. “Alright, just get me back on properly,” accepted its head. The body picked up the head, turned it, and attached it back onto its neck. Thorin turned back around to face the room while Dis clapped lightly and sarcastically.

The two boys got back on their feet and joined in the applause but were more sincere. “Glad to have you back uncle!” hollered Kili. Thorin thanked him apathetically.

“We’ll meet you in the dining room, Bilbo,” said Dis as she pulled her sons through a pair of French doors.

“Um, Bilbo,” began Thorin.

“Oh, wh—yes?” answered Bilbo surprised that Thorin used his name.

Bilbo didn’t realize how closely he had been standing to Thorin. He had much less of a presence as either a body or a head separately than he did now and Bilbo awkwardly shuffled back a little.

“I want to thank you for what you did when you were attacked by the crows. They were after my crown but you protected it, and me. You’re a surprisingly selfless person despite trading my head for a clock,” Thorin completed.

Bilbo laughed partially at the joke and partially out of nervousness. Having Thorin thank him so kindly would have been less flustering if he had done it while still only a head. His face was even better looking with a tall and sturdy body now attached. “You’re welcome, Thorin,” he answered. He picked up his clock again and held it out partway to Thorin, “As you can see it’s a _very_ nice clock.”

Thorin looked at the clock in amusement and replied, “More importantly it got a second chance to live.” He then walked out of the room through the French doors and Bilbo paused only a moment before following.


	7. Dinner and Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT EDIT: I will make a note of this again next chapters for up-to-date readers but I have done more research into Halloween celebrations to prepare for the upcoming chapters and found Hallowtide to be a much more appropriate name than Halloweek (which was halloweak *badum tssh*)

Everyone at the table gaped and stared while Bilbo ate but he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. As it turns out the dead can fortunately taste food despite no longer needing it. Everyone else at the table had only taken sample sized portions of the different dishes, enough to taste, but certainly not enough to fill a living stomach. But Bilbo was a living man whose stomach was very empty and his plate was heavy with food despite it being already his second course. It didn’t help that Bilbo came from a family of iron stomachs and he had started drooling before he even sat at the table.

The dining room was mostly as it was original to the castle, medieval and plain, but some more comfortable chairs had been added. The table was laden with mostly harvest vegetables; there was a thick and spicy pumpkin soup, tossed salad with fresh grape tomatoes and sliced apples, roasted yams and brussel sprouts with gravy and a thick cheesy sauce respectively. Bilbo was surprised by the absence of meat on the table but he guessed the pastures weren’t part of the castle when it was split off by the curse. There were perhaps some pigs and chickens about but if that was so then certainly they would have been kept for special occasions. Bilbo had been introduced to the chef Bombur before he even sat down. He was a bizarre ghostly creature who, even has an apparition, was obviously heavy set with fat rolls slick with slime. He reminded Bilbo of a particular ghost from the Ghostbusters movies but he didn’t think of it much. Turned out he was Bofur’s brother and about just as friendly.

“Now that’s what I mean by a proper dinner guest!” exclaimed Bombur happily as he also watched Bilbo eat.

“Thank you, Bombur, it’s absolutely delicious!” replied Bilbo after swallowing a mouthful, still not embarrassed. The Baggins are never sheepish about food.

Mostly Bilbo guessed he was just thankful the dinner wasn’t human organs and blood in goblets or whatever other ghastly things he had seen in 80s B-rated horror films. He eyed the corn with some regret. It smelled perfectly cooked but he had simply spent too much time around corn in the last while. By Bilbo’s third course he was the only one still eating and when he finished Dis had been asking him questions about his pawn shop when Gandalf slipped into the room and took a seat at his side.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t enjoy the meal, I’m sure it was wonderful Bombur,” apologized Gandalf.

“I’m sure you’re excused, Gandalf, you always have better things to do although you never explain what they are,” replied Thorin dryly.

“That’s only because you think yourself too good to ask,” quipped Gandalf as he pulled out a teapot from out of his robes and set it on the table, “I was looking for a teapot and couldn’t find one. I had to ask Dori if I could borrow a set,” he explained while drawing out teacups from his robes.

“That’s because he broke our only pot a couple of years ago while in a fit,” explained Dis bitterly and jerked her head towards Thorin.

“It wasn’t a _fit_ , it was an accident,” defended Thorin with some embarrassment.  Bilbo gave him an unimpressed look but Thorin looked pointedly away, “no one’s asked for a replacement since then. Anyway, tea is a weak drink.”

“Well, Bilbo happens to be an excellent tea brewer and I should like to a try a cup if he doesn’t mind,” Gandalf replied and Bilbo nodded in agreement.

“I’d love to, tea sounds heavenly,” he answered while standing up and rearranging the tea set. Gandalf drew out a tin of tea leaves and Bilbo wondered dryly how much his robes could hold. He measured the leaves into a strainer while Bombur left to heat up a kettle. Thorin was a bit red around the ears when Bilbo asked if he would want a cup.

“I’ll try it, thank you,” he answered. Dis and her sons also wanted to try a cup.

“I think only enough for a couple cups, though, it’s getting late,” Bilbo added listlessly.

“Oh, yes, Bilbo, by the way, we’ve already prepared a room for you,” informed Dis.

“What? Which one?” asked Thorin gruffly.

“The royal suite, of course, where else would we put him,” chided Dis and Thorin murmured in agreement.

“Oh, that’s very kind, it really is, but I was hoping to spend the night in my own bed. Gandalf is taking me back,” he looked to Gandalf, “just after this pot, which should be agreeable.”

“That would not be possible,” declared Thorin.

“What?” Bilbo looked between them all, “what do you mean it’s not possible?”

“It’s not possible, how else should I phrase it?” barked Thorin. Now Bilbo spluttered and looked to Gandalf in panic.

“What does he mean it’s not possible?” he squeaked.

Gandalf smoothed his hands on the table and bade Bilbo to sit down, “It’s possible to go back, my dear boy, he just means not right now. If you recall I said I would _tell_ you how to get back, and I will. It’s the same way you came in.”

Bilbo sat down but felt the frustration and indignity boil in his stomach, “I tried that but there was no gnarl on the tree!”

“There will be, just not yet. There are multiple doorways from this world to the human world and that tree is one of them. It’s just that the doorways are locked except at certain times. I used my magic to jar the lock open at an unusual time,” explained Gandalf, “but it will open back on its own soon.”

“How soon is ‘soon’?” demanded Bilbo as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Halloween,” replied Gandalf.

Bilbo groaned and tried to keep from shouting, “That’s ten days away! Can’t you force the lock open again like you did to get me in here?”

“No, Bilbo, I’m afraid not, the doorways only swing one way. It’s impossible to force them open from this side,” Bilbo was gaping at him.

“You knew this would happen. You knew I would be stuck here for ten days! Why!? Did you really just want someone to fetch the king’s head? Why me? Goddamn, why me!” Bilbo became lightheaded in fury and took a couple deep breaths to calm down. He felt like taking a leaf from Thorin’s book and breaking a teapot of his own.

“Bilbo, don’t be upset!” blurted Kili and earned a smack from his mother who had been trying to keep her boys settled during the conversation.

“Ow! No, but really! You’re so lucky! Soon we’re going to start the Hallowtide celebrations! It won’t be boring here at all; you’ll have a lot of fun!” Kili’s enthusiasm helped Bilbo calm a down a little.

“That sounds wonderful Kili, but that week is also one of the most important of my business. A lot of kids and teenagers like to buy costume pieces from pawn shops for Halloween,” Bilbo explained.

There was a bit of an awkward pause and Fili answered, “You could still be open on Halloween if that helps.” Maybe it would, mused Bilbo. He had enough put away in savings that he could survive one bad Halloween season in sales.

“Thanks, Fili, I think it would. Maybe I’ll keep the shop open late and hand out candy from there, might encourage parents to get their kids something while in the spirit,” Bilbo said in resignation. He sighed heavily, “I think I’d like to go straight to bed. Thank you very much for dinner and your hospitality. Give Bombur my thanks, too.”

“No tea?” asked Gandalf and Bilbo pinned him with sharpest glare he’d ever shot.

Kili and Fili decided to escort Bilbo together. They showed him up a spiralling staircase into the guest suite. The room was furnished with different periods of gothic furniture: some of modern design and some of original medieval origins. Most predominantly was revival gothic furniture from the 18th century. It had more elaborate ornamentation than the simpler neo-gothic creations that were made a century later. A particularly excellent specimen was the canopied bed in the middle of the room which had head- and footboards designed like the walls of a cathedral. The bed coverings were a wine-red like the carpeting. There was no artwork in the room but the curtains had gorgeous medieval-style patterns embroidered into them. As a collector of historical items Bilbo was deeply impressed. From a standpoint of interior design, however, it was way overdone. Bilbo felt like he was on the set of a vampire movie.

 “You have your own bathroom off to the right side, and don’t worry, it’s not medieval!” explained Kili.

“We’ll make sure to have breakfast ready for you in the morning. If you hear anything strange the night don’t worry about it, it’s probably just the spectres. Do you need anything?” asked Fili.

“No, thank you boys, this will be enough,” replied Bilbo and gave them a weak smile. But the brothers did not budge.

“What happened in the cornfield? Uncle is so relaxed, I thought for sure he’d have blown his head off again chewing us out!” exclaimed Kili.

“Or maybe he’s yelling at our mom right now,” said Fili scratching his chin.

“You guys must really get along, I think he’s actually trying to behave,” said Kili in wonder.

“I don’t know about that,” scoffed Bilbo, “but he didn’t have me executed, if that’s something.”

“Oh, uncle would never do that,” said Kili shaking his head, “he knows what it’s like.”

“Oh, that’s right, sorry then,” apologized Bilbo meekly.

Fili grabbed Kili by the scruff of his jacket, “We’ll go and let you sleep. Scream if you need anything,” Fili winked and pulled Kili out the door as he hollered a “goodnight Bilbo!”

Now alone in the room Bilbo set his scarf on a nearby chair and pulled off his cardigan and shoes. He looked into the bathroom and was impressed. It wasn’t completely modern but it was definitely 20th century. The floor was tiled and there was a large freestanding bathtub with a shower head connected to the top and a shower curtain along a circular track. There was also a flushing toilet and double faucet sink. The pipes were a bit rusty but the room was clean and it definitely wasn’t medieval. Passively he wondered who had done the renovation job before taking off his slacks, dimming the gas lights, and climbing into the bed. He had no interest in drawing the canopy and despite his anger and frustration the comfort of the bed lulled him into a calm sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was extremely tired while writing this chapter but I hope it's not lacking it's usual lustre!


	8. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TERM CHANGE: When I first posted chapter 7 I called Hallowtide "Halloweek." It was a weak term and after doing more research into Halloween for the upcoming chapters I found a better alternative. If you've forgotten the context of Halloweek don't worry - this is the chapter where it's actually explained. Sorry for the inconsistency!

When Bilbo woke up he had no idea where he was. He was too drowsy to remember at first and spent a good few seconds confused about why there wasn’t light peeking through his bedroom blinds and why he couldn’t see his digital clock on the nightstand. When the memories peeked through the sleepy haze he considered just going back to sleep and staying the full nine days left in bed, dammit. He also didn’t know what time it was since his room was completely black but his body felt fully rested so he guessed it wasn’t the middle of the night. Reluctantly he pulled off the thick covers and shivered as his bare feet touched the cold floor. He groped until he found the curtains and pulled them back. There was plenty of light behind the thick curtain but it seemed purely white outside. As his eyes adjusted he realized the castle was blanketed in thick, soupy fog.

He pulled the curtains aside fully and put back on his cardigan, socks, and shoes. He decided to leave the scarf in the room and after a quick moment in the bathroom he left the suite. The medieval staircase was narrow and steep and he was half terrified he might slip to his death but he thankfully reached the second floor landing alive. The doors into the dining room were open and Bilbo heard his clock chime nine in the morning on the foyer table. He picked it up before stepping into the dining room with some apprehension. Fili had told him they would prepare breakfast for him but he had no idea what to expect. The room seemed empty and there was no noise echoing through the castle walls to suggest there was any life in it. Well, technically there _wasn’t_ , but apparently no one was awake, either.

He placed his clock on the dining room table and wondered if it would be rude to start breakfast on his own. He noticed the tea pot and cups where still on the table untouched as well as the tin of tea leaves. Certainly it couldn’t be amiss if he only made tea? But he would have to go into the kitchen to boil some hot water and he was uncomfortable with potentially trespassing into the chef’s space.

“Hello, um, Mr. Bilbo?” startled, Bilbo yelped softly and quickly searched the room for the speaker. Across the table was a young man he didn’t see beforehand but he was seated with his hands together on the table. He seemed barely in the room at all, a flickering and pale lad of a ghostly impression.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you! Yes, I’m Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo introduced. The ghost was only a little taller than Bilbo but he seemed to command much less presence. His clothes, layers of knit wool, seemed to be what gave the apparition the most of his substance.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bilbo. It’s just that I’ve been asked a couple favours to do for you,” the boy explained.

“Oh? Really? That’s awfully generous, what kind of favours? And um, may I ask your name?”

“Ori, at your service. Kili and Fili asked me to wait until you came down so I could wake them up to make you breakfast. They thought you would be awake a lot sooner. I was also asked by Thorin if I could mend your clothes,” Ori elaborated.

Bilbo looked at his clothes in surprise. Holes had been torn in them by the crows and through them he could see his bandages, “Oh, thank you that would be great, do you need my clothes right now? It’s just that I have nothing else to wear.”

“No, that’s alright, I’ll find something spare for you, but first I’ll go wake up Kili and Fili,” the ghost replied. Before Bilbo could thank him he had disappeared. He seemed to be made of the fog outside, thought Bilbo amusedly.

He took a seat and pulled his clock over to him. The calendar in its face read the 22nd of October and he sighed. It was going to be a long nine days. He almost fell asleep again waiting and listening to the ticking of the clock when a bat flew into the dining room. It was struggling to fly while carrying a shirt and Bilbo was about to voice his confusion when suddenly Fili charged into the room so fast he toppled over several of the chairs. Bilbo had to grab the table to steady it and a painful crack of wood worried him that Fili had broken one of the antique chairs. The bat flew overtop the collision and with a puff of smoke turned into Kili who landed on his brother and started howling.

“I won! I won! Even while carrying the shirt I still beat you!” Kili boasted between bursts of laughter.

Fili got up and started resetting the chairs and straightened the table. He was scowling and muttered, “I should have given you something heavier to carry; it’s not fair when you can fly up the stairs.”

He picked up the last chair and Bilbo could tell it was broken. He came around the table scolding, “Boys _, really,_ this furniture isn’t as tough as you.” Fortunately the damage was minimal; some stretchers had come off from the chair legs, “If you have some wood glue and something to tie the legs in place while it dries I can fix this.”

“Yeah, I can go get that,” said Fili gratefully, “Good morning, by the way!” he called over his shoulder while exiting the dining room.

“And good morning to you, too, Fili,” he called back, “and good morning to you, too, Kili.”

“Good morning Bilbo! You slept a lot last night, I thought for sure you’d be up before sunrise,” reflected Kili cheerily.

“Why is that?” asked Bilbo, taken aback.

“Well, I heard that the living say ‘you can sleep when you’re dead,’ so I thought you were supposed to try and stay awake as much as possible when you’re alive,” he replied.

Bilbo laughed good-naturedly and elaborated, “That is a saying, yes. But in practice we sleep quite a bit, dear boy.”

Kili mouthed oooh while he nodded his head in understanding. He stared a little at Bilbo smiling widely before remembering the shirt in his hands, “Oh yeah! Ori said you needed spare clothes!” He held out the shirt for Bilbo to take.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered. It was just a basic white dress shirt but instead of a collar it had a narrow neckband with a button to fasten it. Bilbo recognized it as an older shirt design meant to be worn with a detachable collar and he tried to check the shirt tag but it had been ripped off. Knowing the castle and recognizing the aged quality of the fabric he suspected it might have pre-dated collared shirts.

“It’s probably too big for you but it’s just a temporary shirt. We can find better fitting clothes for you later!” said Kili, finishing with a grin.

“Yes, it probably is too big, but I’ll go back up to my room and change into it,” Bilbo replied.

“Alright, I’ll get started on breakfast for you in the meanwhile,” Kili winked while Bilbo picked up his clock and made his way back up to his guest suite. He was a little self-conscious about giving his torn clothes to Ori after he had slept in it but he swallowed the embarrassment. He watched himself button the shirt in the bathroom mirror and decided _yes, this shirt is definitely too big_. It spilled over his hips and went partway down his thighs. He rolled the sleeves a couple times and felt even smaller than usual. Shortness was another family trait, this one from _both_ sides of the family, and he tried not be insecure about it but it’s tough when you’re barely over five feet. He buttoned the shirt all the way to the neckband; the shirt was too big to feel snug around the neck anyways. He folded his clothes and carried them back down to the dining room with him.

On the table was a bottle of wood glue and a few long ribbons. He could hear Fili arguing with Kili in the kitchen and he set his clothes aside and started to mend the broken chair. He flipped it upside down so the back of the chair was hanging over the table and eased glue out of the bottle and applied it sparingly to the holes for the stretchers. It took some strength and coordination to fit the stretchers back into the holes properly and keep them still while tying the ribbon around the chairs but he managed. When he stepped back to view the chair in whole he realized he had company.

“I’m not sure whether to ask about the chair or the shirt,” said Thorin with his eyebrows raised.

“Fili knocked the stretchers from the legs in a race with Kili,” replied Bilbo, “and Ori is going to mend my clothes as you asked him to. Thank you for asking, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Thorin gruffly as he took a seat at the head of the table, “that cannot be the smallest shirt we have.”

“Kili doesn’t think so, but it’s better than spending the day half naked,” replied Bilbo.

“If you say so,” said Thorin with a weak smile as he placed a stack of letters and memos on the table. He sorted the envelopes to the side and began reading through pages.

“I didn’t know a cursed kingdom would get mail,” asked Bilbo.

“There are other kingdoms that have been cursed,” explained Thorin without looking up, “regrettably.”

“What are they like?”

“Again with the questions,” sighed Thorin.

Bilbo pouted at him but someone took the seat beside him, “Oh, there’s one that was frozen under a curse of eternal winter, and one where that was cursed because a lover’s spat between royals, tho we’ve never had visitors from that one.”

“Bofur! Are you not working today?” asked Bilbo delighted. Thorin looked up at the two briefly before going back to reading.

“Nah, the crows can’t even see me in this fog, no point,” he replied, “it’s going to be good fun having you here for Hallowtide, much more exciting than when it’s only the regular lot o’ us.”

“What _is_ Hallowtide?” Bilbo asked gingerly.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen whipped open and Kili, covered in egg yolk bits, declared, “The most fun nine days ever! There’s a ball and we eat a lot of candy and put on plays and scare each other and one night we have a huge bonfire—which Bofur can never attend because he would catch on fire—but is still great because there’s fireworks too!”

“Kili! Get back in here!” yelled Fili from within the kitchen and Bofur picked up the explanation.

“Between the 24th and the first of November we have different events happening each day. We start with the harvest and on sundown on Halloween the doorways unlock. We have a 24 hour window then to enjoy the human world before sundown again the next day,” he elaborated.

“That really does sound like fun. What are the different days?”

“How is that fun! Just telling you the full schedule like that. Wouldn’t it be more fun to learn what’s going to happen day by day?” asked Bofur.

“Maybe you’re right, but I have a feeling Kili is going to tell me everything anyways,” joked Bilbo.

Thorin swore suddenly. He had moved on from the memos and was reading one of the letters, “The Elven party wants to stay for the Danse Macabre.”

Bofur grimaced and explained to Bilbo, “Usually they only come for the Marathon of Horror, which is a day dedicated to scaring each other. We set up the castle like a horror house and whoever gets the most screams by midnight wins the title of Boogeyman. It’s really boring for just the few of us to run around trying to scare each other.”

“It’s also satisfying to make that smug Elven king scream,” added Thorin bitterly.

“You don’t like them?” asked Bilbo innocently.

Thorin looked him dead in the eye and very clearly said to him, “They are condescending, immoderate, arrogant prudes and I would rather have the bastards who cut my head off at the Danse Macabre than them. Their king is an insensitive and well-mannered snake who thinks nothing of betrayal and disloyalty so long as his own fortune is secure. All politeness and courtesy as a varnish that—”

“I understand,” interrupted Bilbo raising his hands to settle Thorin, “I get the point.”

Thorin was indignant at the interruption but kept his mouth closed as he glared at Bilbo.

“Can’t you just deny the request?” Bilbo asked instead.

“No,” replied Thorin acidly, “I have to play niceties with the Elven king. I need an excuse.” His eyes closed as he massaged his temples but suddenly they opened again and he was staring at Bilbo with purpose, “You would make an excellent excuse.”

“E-Excuse me?” spluttered Bilbo.

“Now I just have to think of how to word it,” wondered Thorin ignoring him.

“Wouldn’t it also be more fun to have more people at the Danse Macabre? If it’s just a few of you then it’s not much of a ball,” mused Bilbo.

“It would be if it was anyone but _them_ ,” replied Thorin.

The kitchen door swung open again and Kili and Fili both came out carrying two large trays, “Breakfast is ready!” declared Kili zealously. On the trays were French toast, poached eggs, roasted tomato halves, and pancakes covered in blueberry sauce. Bilbo actually squealed in delight and thanked the boys profusely.

Kili, Fili, and Bofur chatted about Hallowtide while Bilbo ate but Thorin, hand on his chin and tapping his fingers against the letter absentmindedly, had gotten lost in thought while watching Bilbo eat. He was biting into one of the tomato halves when Ori appeared again to borrow his clothes and Bilbo just about chocked in surprise. He gave him a quick thank you before continuing his breakfast.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day, Bilbo?” asked Fili. Bilbo looked at him in surprise with poached egg dripping down his chin.

“Uh, well, I hadn’t thought about that,” he answered after swallowing.

“Most of us are going to be getting ready for Hallowtide but you’re welcome to do whatever you want,” replied Fili. Bilbo thought for a little before Kili suddenly jumped to his feet in realization.

“If you’re going to be here for Hallowtide then you need an outfit for the Danse Macabre!” he declared. Thorin snapped out of his trance.

“We’ll name Bilbo the guest of honour, I doubt that reindeer-riding dainty will want to go the Danse Macabre if he won’t be the center of attention,” said Thorin cruelly.

“Ay, that’s settled, finish your breakfast lad, we’ve got to dress you up!” exclaimed Bofur slapping Bilbo on the back. Bilbo took another bite of French toast nodded tensely. He didn’t think he’d get far arguing the point but he most certainly didn’t want to be the center of attention instead of some king.


	9. Witch Boutique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing dress up for the Danse Macabre with guest of honour Bilbo Baggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've all noticed that updates have slowed down. I'm still shifting through school work and while I'm glad I got a good head start on the fic it won't be updating with its original frequency, which used to be almost once a day! I hope to be no slower than once every week but it depends on my energy level and how I manage to get through all these essays. Thanks!

Bilbo was following Fili up a new flight of stairs. Kili had flown beside them as a bat at first but got bored with how slow they were going and perched on Bilbo’s head instead. Bofur brought up the rear and after only a couple of stops they managed to reach the top landing with Bilbo only slightly out of breath. He guessed this was an old watch tower which had been converted into someone’s personal area. There were heavy fabrics, rugs, and curtains hanging from beams that divvyed up the space as to create a few small rooms off to either side. Against the opposite wall was a large, black, wrought-iron cauldron with a small fire lit under it. There were no odors or fumes coming from the cauldron but above it were shelves of ingredients. Some were simple spices or herbs but others were a classic witch-store of eyes, limbs, organs, and juices of various animals, including a jar of live leeches and another of fluttering moths.

There were a few chairs in the room; all comfortable baroque seats with different upholstering that had been obviously changed from the original fabric. Beside one of the chairs was a Victorian cabinet filled with sewing and knitting supplies. Next to the cabinet was a Singer treadle sewing machine and Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder with excitement if it was still in working condition. A flash of movement directed Bilbo’s gaze back to the nearby chair and Bilbo realized Ori was in it, patching back together his shirt and cardigan.

“Hello Ori!” he greeted. Ori looked up and waved with a weak smile before returning to his work.

“Weak hello,” scoffed Kili. He hopped off Bilbo’s head and transformed out of his bat shape, “is ma around?”

“Hello, hello!” called Dis, pushing past a curtain and stepping out of one of the rooms with her arms full of fabric rolls, “Did you two finally come by for your fitting? Or are you still sketching your costumes?”

“No ma, we’re still working them! Fili’s practically done, though,” answered Kili.

“Am not, I’ve got lots still to figure out. You just have no idea what you want to be,” sniped Fili.

“I’m not making your costumes last minute, if you don’t have it figured out before the Harvest you’re going to be stuck with whatever I make you,” Dis warned.

Kili moaned pathetically, “Noo, it will be done. We’re actually here for Bilbo! He needs a fitting! Uncle named him the guest of honour.”

“Did he?” asked Dis amused.

“Only in an effort to scare the Elves away from the Danse Macabre, though,” laughed Bofur.

“Oh yeah,” added Fili, “he thinks they won’t come if they’re not the guests of honour.”

Dis rolled her eyes and barked a couple times in laughter, “I think he might be right for once, though. Bilbo, dear, how was breakfast? Hopefully my sons didn’t starve you with bad cooking. Or poison you.”

“No, they did an excellent job, breakfast was wonderful. Thanks again boys,” replied Bilbo. Kili and Fili lit up like light bulbs.

“Alright Bilbo, let’s get you a costume. Come stand on his stool, do you have any ideas?” Dis asked while she guided Bilbo onto a squat wooden stool in front of a heavy full-length mirror.

“Um, no, I don’t really know what to expect,” answered Bilbo sheepishly.

“Don’t worry,” winked Dis, “I’ll be your scary godmother. Let’s just think of a theme to start with.”

“Do it pumpkin themed!” hollered Kili and Fili wacked him on the back of head. Dis rolled her eyes again.

“What about a black cat?” suggested Fili.

Before Bilbo could voice any opinion Dis had flicked her wrist and the fabric had rolled off into the air and wrapped around him. Pieces were magically cut and stitched in a whirlwind and Bilbo felt quite a bit like Cinderella except incredibly uncomfortable. When the fabric settled and he looked into the mirror he was wearing the most embarrassing outfit of his life. It was mostly made of spandex and leather with a cap with pointed cat ears. Bilbo could not even speak, he stuttered a little, went completely red in the face, and just began yelling incoherently.

“Quick, something else!” shouted Dis.

Fili spluttered loudly and yelled, “His clock! Do his clock!”

Dis flicked both her wrists and Bilbo was wrapped up in the fabric cloud again. When it cleared he was wearing an infinitely more respectable outfit. It was a brown tweed suit with a large pocket watch in the breast pocket. Bilbo took a few breaths and the redness rinsed from his face.

“Better,” he chocked, “but I look more like a professor than a ball-goer.”

“That’s true,” agreed Dis while nodding thoughtfully.

“Something with more flair,” chirped Bofur, “Bilbo, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say ‘dazzling’?”

“A butterfly I suppose,” answered Bilbo warily.

Dis snapped her fingers and the fabric sprang to comply. The new outfit had a mask like a blue butterfly, a trimmed blue jacket, bloomers, and stockings that shone like liquid silver.

“Definitely more ‘dazzling’,” joked Bilbo meekly. At first he thought the costume too flashy and feminine, but after turned a couple times in the mirror actually quite liked it. He had never dressed so extravagantly before but he realized flair might suit him more than he would have guessed.

“Not scary, though,” complained Fili, “this isn’t a spring ball, it’s the Danse Macabre!”

“You need something more in the spirit of things,” agreed Kili.

“Maybe it’s alright though, he’ll be the only living person at the ball, suits in its own way,” suggested Bofur.

“What do you think Bilbo?” asked Dis.

“I think we should try something more in spirit, yes,” he agreed.

“Let’s try a devil theme,” suggested Fili. Once again Dis flicked her wrist and Bilbo was caught in a tornado of fabrics.

His new outfit had a heavily patterned but gorgeous long red jacket. It had pointed shoulder pads and came with sleek black leather gloves. He also had a pair of small red horns and a retainer of fake sharpened teeth. A gold chain came from his breast pocket to a spider brooch on his jacket lapel.

“I like it,” declared Bilbo, “except for the brooch, I’m not fond of spiders,” he admitted.

Fili, Kili, and Bofur were all agreeing with the good choice when Dis took his hand and slipped him off the stool and into one of the side rooms, pushing a thick rug aside for him to enter.

“Bilbo, I think we should do your outfit in a spider theme,” she told him.

“W-what? But I just said I don’t like them,” blanched Bilbo.

“Exactly. Halloween is about what scares you, Bilbo, I think you should embrace your fear,” she told him seriously.

“Why did you pull me in here to tell me that?” asked Bilbo meekly.

“I think it should be a surprise,” she told him and clapped her hands very gently. This time the fabric did not sweep him, but curled around him and slithered into place. In the small room was another full-length mirror, this one older and slightly damaged behind the glass layer and Bilbo examined his new costume.

The jacket was not as elegant as the last one he was wearing but the dusty grey-purple had a gorgeous berry hue at the arms and its military style complimented him. His mask covered his eyes in a milky white lens and added three new pairs. His vision was not at all impaired though and attached to the mask were also a pair of mandibles. His grey pants had the pattern and texture of cobwebs and two sets of fake arms had been added. One set were located where the tails of the jacket should be. They hung freely and weightlessly off his hips and the other pair was wrapped around his torso as if he was hugging himself. Bilbo found this arrangement kept the arms from impeding his mobility. The fake arms had lifelike foam hands but the extra limbs were not as disturbing as he had worried. The design was simple but Bilbo found it charming.

“Well, at least being small isn’t out of place with this costume,” he joked.

“Do you like it? I think you look handsome,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” mumbled Bilbo blushing, “and I think you’re right. About embracing my fears, I mean. It’s a tasteful and charming costume and it suits the occasion very well,” he decided.

“Alright, I’ll wrap it up for you,” she said and held out her arms. The clothes undid themselves from around Bilbo and piled neatly in her hands. She then pulled away a curtain to step into an adjoining room and came back with a beautiful orange box with a black satin ribbon tied around it, “here you are.”

“Thank you, Dis,” he replied.

When Dis handed the present to him she froze for a second then relaxed, “I didn’t realize you were wearing my late husband’s shirt. It’s a bit big for you; I’ll dig up a new wardrobe for you while you’re here.”

“Thank you again,” he said, “is your late husband not with you all in death?”

“No,” she answered stiffly, “he did not die with us.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bilbo genuinely and squeezed one of her hands.

“What’s happening? UGH!” called Kili from back in the main separation of the room.

“Nothing, we’re done,” Dis called back and they left the room together.

“Did you wrap up the devil costume?” Fili asked noticing the box.

“No, we chose another costume. It’s a surprise,” Dis added with a wink. Kili’s eyes went wide.

“That’s an excellent idea,” he enthused, “perfect for a guest of honour to show up in a surprise costume.”

“Here Bilbo, if you don’t mind carrying a bit more,” said Ori placing Bilbo’s mended clothes on top of the box.

“Thank you Ori—oh my, I’ve been saying ‘thank you’ a lot today. You’re all very generous, _really_ ,” stressed Bilbo.

“Don’t worry about it Bilbo. We haven’t had a human guest here for probably a lifetime,” said Fili.

“About seventy years,” specified Bofur, “anyways, what are you going to do now? It’s not even noon and you’ve got your costume for the Danse Macabre.”

“You should make sure he’s introduced to everyone in the castle, properly,” said Dis.

“Oh, yeah, let’s take Bilbo on a grand tour!” said Kili.

“I would love to if you don’t mind me dropping these in my room first,” replied Bilbo.

“Of course, and afterwards we’ll get you lunch,” planned Fili.

“See ya later, ma!” sang Kili and he pulled Bilbo towards the stairs.

“Thank you again, Dis and Ori, goodbye for now,” he called before he was marched out of the room completely.

Bilbo only stopped in his room for an instant to set down the box, change back into his clothes, and use the bathroom. While washing his hands Bilbo thought about what Bofur had said: about seventy years since their last human visitor. He looked back around the plumbing and tiled construction of the room and wondered if that visitor had been their contractor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got quite a few references into this chapter with the different costumes; I referenced a few pictures done by my friends on tumblr.
> 
> The black cat outfit is a reference to pandamani's vigilante AU where Bilbo is a Catwoman-esque character (http://pandamani.tumblr.com/post/85794296209/first-one-bilbo-is-making-fun-of-thorins)
> 
> The butterfly outfit is my personal favourite DOKI DOKI MASTER BURGLAR STING AU by ewebean (http://ewebean.tumblr.com/post/74431091333/the-unexpected-return-of-doki-doki-master-burglar)
> 
> Also referenced from her is the devil costume which was her Halloween icon and theme last year (http://ewebean.tumblr.com/post/63036675401/i-spookified-my-blog)
> 
> Also posted are pictures of Bilbo's spider outfit on my own blog, or you can check the #hallowbit tag on tumblr!  
> http://batherik.tumblr.com/post/85898283078/chapter-9-bilbos-spider-themed-costume-for-the


	10. Tour Awry

It was almost noon and Bilbo was almost finished with his tour.

He had been introduced to Dori who was cleaning the parlors and sitting rooms in preparation for Hallowtide and had insisted that Bilbo _must_ visit him at tea time. He had heard excellent things about his tea from Gandalf but promised he wouldn’t invite the wizard if Bilbo was still frustrated with him. Bilbo accepted the invitation queasily while he tried to ignore the zombie’s gaping wounds and bare bones. Balin and his brother were too busy going through a checklist and inspecting stores and equipment to talk but the mummy promised a proper conversation after dinner that evening.

Bilbo had been dragged past a particularly unique piano forte by Bofur to meet his cousin Bifur. The cousin wasn’t as badly mutilated as Dori but Bilbo found him even more horrific. While Dori was rotted and partially decayed, Bifur looked very alive, except, of course, for the axe in his head. Blood was dripping from the bedded blade and the injury looked fresh. Bilbo was sure it was because Bifur’s appearance was less surreal than the others that it affected him more but it took the two cousins a couple minutes to settle Bilbo down. He had begun to panic and started babbling about bandages and hyperventilating. When he was able to calm and meet with Bifur properly he realized he was a contradiction: both open but silent. He was unlike Bofur, who chatted easily and continuously, but still had the same easy going and honest company.

Now Bilbo was walking down a basement corridor towards the castle treasury.

“Gloin’s a fine financier, he was the richest among us when we were alive, save the king obviously,” spoke Bofur, “he’s got a son, too, aye. He was only a babe when he died so we thought he’d be a babe forever, but no! He grew slowly though, slower even then these two,” he jerked towards Fili and Kili, “but he grew alright, I guess bein’ cursed isn’t the same as being just a walking corpse.”

“We’re a bit of a different situation than Gimli, though,” added Fili.

“How so?” asked Bilbo.

“We were born after all this happened,” explained Kili, gesturing around them, “with a living dad.”

“Your mother was able to have children like this? That’s amazing,” Bilbo awed.

“Yeah, like Bofur said, being cursed isn’t the same as being dead,” Kili replied distractedly. He was counting the candlesticks as they walked by them.

“What was he like?” asked Bilbo tentatively, “was your father content having a dead wife? Not that I mean to offend at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he was,” answered Kili still counting, “he was pretty fun, made me lots of toys.”

“Our father did construction,” supplied Fili, “especially with modernizing old houses before the Great War.”

“He was in the Great War?” asked Bilbo excitedly. Then he paused in thought and added soberly, “did he pass in the war?”

“Oh, no, our mom didn’t even know him then. I wasn’t born until 1925,” Fili answered.

“Though I guess he did pass during _a_ war,” Kili noted, “24… 25! Here we go!”

Kili pulled on the twenty-fifth candlestick and _click_ , the floor beneath Bilbo’s feet slid aside and he fell. Bilbo heard Kili swear and call “Sorry!” as he fell with a shout. The tunnel he slid down curved around a couple times and Bilbo was carried through the darkness until landing on hard rock floor. He gasped a little in pain and surprise. There was even less light in this room than the basement corridor above. His eyes adjusted somewhat and was able to see the flat iron bars.

“A dungeon cell!” Bilbo complained, “what was he thinking! Pulling that thing without even a warning!”

He called out a few times but without reply. The dungeon floor was grimy and coated in decades, maybe even centuries, of dust. But as he stood up he felt a jolt of pain through his right ankle. He looked at the opening above him and lamented that he might have twisted his ankle on landing. He felt it carefully and tried to apply pressure. It certainly wasn’t broken, thank goodness, but he wouldn’t be able to stand on it for a while. He tried to minimize his contact with the floor while he waited for his tour guides to rescue him. After a few minutes he started to hum and old folk song.

_The gypsy rover came over the hill,_   
_And down through the valley so shady,_   
_He whistled and he sang ‘til the greenwoods rang,_   
_And he won the heart of a lady._

He was humming the chorus when a second voice joined him, raspy, strained and high,

_Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day,_   
_Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay_   
_He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang,_   
_And he won the heart of a lady._

and Bilbo froze. He looked over where the voice was and saw a pale pair of arms grasping the bars that connected his cell to the one adjacent.

“Well don’t stop singing, precious,” it rasped.

“Wh-who are you?” Bilbo asked, his voice clear in the musty darkness.

“Haven’t heard singing, we haven’t, or voices at all for a very, _very_ long time. Except our own, precious,” it lamented.

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

“ _Gollum, gollum!_ ” it coughed. The throaty noise kicked up dust from the cell floor and obscured the arms. When it settled again they were no longer there and Bilbo heard the muffled rattling of feet on cold stone.

“Gollum? Is that your name? Why are you in here?” Bilbo could hear the tension and fear in his voice much too clearly for his own comfort.

“ _Murder_ ,” it hissed cruelly.

Bilbo’s throat was thick and he could barely swallow. Gollum muttered to himself and continued singing lyrics from the song, completely out of order or context,

_She left her servants and her state…_

_He came at last to a mansion fine…_

_And I shall stay till my dying day…_

The creature coughed and sobbed both savagely and pitifully. Then it moaned, “What does a ghost keep in its stables?”

Mistaking it for a question directed towards him Bilbo stuttered, “A, um, a nightmare?”

The creature silenced completely for a pause then asked, “does it like riddles, precious?”

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose,” he answered cautiously.

“Why is a cemetery a good place to write a story?”

Bilbo stuttered a little before thinking seriously and answering, “Because there are many plots there?”

The pale figure cackled in the shadows and his arms wrapped themselves around the bars again, “your turn, precious, your turn.”

“Oh, well, does it have to be Halloween themed?” he asked.

The arms were still against the bars and once again it paused in silence before barking, “What does it mean?”

“I mean I don’t know any Halloween themed riddles,” he explained.

Gollum hissed and scratched at the bars, mumbling, “what does it mean, precious,” to himself. Bilbo retreated away when suddenly a third voice called, “Shut up!”

There were heavy footsteps and the click of keys against the lock of Bilbo’s cell, “I said shut up, goblin!”

“Not a goblin, precious, not a goblin,” but the arms disappeared and Gollum slunk back further into his cell.

“Alright Bilbo, come on out,” called Thorin. Relief unwound Bilbo.

“I can’t, I think my ankle is twisted from the fall,” explained Bilbo warily.

Thorin swore, “You can’t walk?”

“No, I can’t even stand,” he added sheepishly.

Thorin groaned and muttered a few nasty things about Kili as he stepped into the cell, “Put your arms around my neck.”

“W-what?” Bilbo stuttered but already Thorin had put his arms around his back and the inner side of his knees. He lifted him up and Bilbo hooked his arms around Thorin’s neck and thanked the darkness. His neck up to his face and ears were burning. He was able to calm down and cool his blush well enough by the time they reached the corridor and the candlestick-light.

Kili immediately began to apologize profusely but Thorin walked past him, explaining his ankle had been hurt. Kili shrieked in shame and Fili had to calm him down. Ori bandaged the ankle and gave him some ice, making a joke or two at Bilbo’s bad luck. The injury was minor but Oin had him drink a suspicious potion to speed up the healing even more. Thorin then carried him like bride back up to his room.

“I’m sorry you’re carrying me around everywhere,” he apologized bashfully.

“You carried me around the corn maze when I was just a head, so it’s fair. Or maybe it’s revenge,” he added with a quick, sly smile. He helped Bilbo sit down in the arm chair and brought an ottoman over for his ankle, “I think Kili’s going to make you a feast of a lunch as an apology, I better make sure he doesn’t get carried away.”

“Thank you. May I ask, who was that prisoner?”

“His name is Sméagol. About a week before the Necromancer came to my castle he confessed to strangling a man by the Running River. A lot of good men, women, and children became spectres, but he didn’t. It’s maddening. Long ago Gandalf tried to rehabilitate him but it proved fruitless. There’s nothing to do with him but leave him in his cell,” Thorin answered massaging his forehead.

Bilbo nodded soberly in understanding, “He was frightening but also very sad. I think I pity him.”

“That’s good of you, but he is a murderer. I don’t think he needs your pity,” Thorin replied.

“Well, he has it whether you think he needs it or not,” pouted Bilbo.

Thorin glared at him ruffled, “Is everything an argument with you?”

“Hardly!” he snorted, “I can’t even think of one real argument I’ve had with you.”

“What is this then?”

“A disagreement isn’t necessarily an argument,” defended Bilbo, “but perhaps since you’re a king you’re not used to people disagreeing with you.”

“That’s ridiculous! Do you see anyone here _ever_ doing as I say? Barely any respect at all, wouldn’t even look for my head,” but Thorin was interrupted by Bilbo’s laughter.

“You’re very easy to work up,” he teased.

Thorin fiddled with his cape in embarrassment, “I’ll go check on Kili and Fili and then I have work to do for Hallowtide until it begins. I doubt I’ll see you tomorrow unless you fall down another trap door.”

“That’s too bad,” remarked Bilbo, “but thank you very much.”

Thorin bowed his head curtly and went to take his leave but paused, “What costume did you get for the Danse Macabre?”

“Dis thinks it should be a surprise,” smiled Bilbo.

“Of course she does,” Thorin rolled his eyes then left.

Fili and Kili brought Bilbo a sandwich fifteen minutes later. Apparently they had planned two other courses to accompany it before Thorin told them off. They spent the rest of the day until dinner playing board games in his room. None of the boys could compete with Bilbo in Scrabble to their dismay.

Bombur prepared another dinner, smaller than last night but still as delicious. This time he got to properly meet Dwalin. He was brash and curt and honestly intimidated Bilbo but he was jovial in food and drink. He was apparently an old soldier and current guard to the king, although there’s not much to protect him against anymore, seeing as they’re all dead. Bilbo respected him but doubted they would ever get on well. Balin, however, he was much closer to in temperament. When he curled back under the covers that night he thought he might have found a good friend in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Gypsy Rover" is a folk song popularly considered to date back to medieval times and it's also a lullaby my mom would sing to me! You can hear it here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E_30G0bkX0) or here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XzlM4t0WOxw).
> 
> Pretty short chapter this time around. I really want to get to the festivities.
> 
> Alternative chapter titles: "Goddammit Kili" , "Dungeons and no Dragons" , "Bilbo's Scary Sing-Along" and "Yes This Is A Bagginshield Fic"


	11. Overdue Tea

It was witching hour when Bilbo awoke in a cold sweat. His room was blacker than sin save for the moonlight which feathered around the edges of the curtains. He felt his stomach drop coldly and his skin pricked. There was a faint scratching of nails on glass and he thought it might have been the creaking of the house. But he wasn’t in a wooden house which would creak and crack with the expanding heat and shrink with the cool of the night.

Then there was tapping at the window. Several long nails were dragging across his windows pausing to tap occasionally. Bilbo had been disturbed and scared quite a lot over these last couple of days and begun to adjust to it. He remembered what Fili had told him his first night, _“If you hear anything strange in the night don’t worry about it, it’s probably just the spectres.”_

He tried to regulate his breathing and go back to sleep when he heard a disembodied voice beside his ear, _where is my child?_ Bilbo’s whole body was paralyzed. Another voice, more masculine, also spoke from out of the darkness, clear and bodiless, _will he love me?_ Then another voice, _will anyone remember me?_ And another, _I don’t think I can do this_. More and more voices confided and questioned him, _I would rather die. Will the food last? I’m a disgrace. What if I fail? Help! I want to run away. Where am I?_ The voices were no longer bodiless but filled his head and mind. The voices echoed like his own thoughts, _I’m scared. I’m worthless._ Soon it was his thoughts he heard, _it all died with them._

“Stop! _Stop!_ I don’t know! I’m sorry, I don’t know!” he begged and screamed.

Suddenly the voices stopped, his body wasn’t paralysed, and there was no scratching or tapping at the window. The room didn’t seem so dark anymore. Bilbo laid in bed shaking and whimpering, his eyes tearful and his body cold. He laid for probably an hour until he calmed down, his body no longer shaking and his eyes not so swollen. But he was still cold. He stepped out of the bed and walked down the stairway back down to the dining room and the kitchen. He didn’t bother with any lights but made his way slowly down the narrow and steep flight.

When he reached the landing he noticed a light in the foyer. He felt strongly the urge to speak to someone, but as friendly as his hosts were, they were still strangers. He wasn’t sure he was able to talk, anyways. Still, he needed to go through the foyer to reach the dining room, and he stepped into the room and the light.

A heavy candle illuminated parchments on table. He recognized a copy of _Malleus Maleficarum_ and _The Discoverie of Witchcraft_. Thorin was scribbling notes as he followed the text of the latter.

“Witchcraft?” asked Bilbo in a croaking voice, surprised he was able to form the word at all.

Thorin jumped a little in surprise and for a second his head disconnected before falling back into place, “What are you doing awake? Lord, you step quietly.”

“Why are _you_ awake? Kili said sleeping was for the dead, not the living, after all.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, “I thought after today’s incident you would know not to take him seriously at all. Besides, the cursed are restless in death.”

Bilbo nodded and gestured to the notes, “Why are you studying medieval writing on witches?”

“It’s more about the fear mongering than the supposed witches. It’s for an idea that Balin had for the haunted house,” he explained. Bilbo nodded interestedly and waited for Thorin to explain further but the king relented, “I won’t say because you’re going to be a visitor to the haunted house. Better to keep it a surprise, like your Danse Macabre costume.”

“Who else is going through? It takes a quite a lot of people to run a haunted house,” Bilbo asked.

“I thought this was explained to you. We of Erebor put on the haunted house and have guests go through. Usually, besides Gandalf, it’s the Elves,” he elaborated.

“Gandalf isn’t from Erebor?” remarked Bilbo in surprise.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, “I had no idea you were so ignorant. I thought my nephews would have explained these things on the tour at least. Gandalf is much older than any of us. He’s a wandering wizard, a magic user like the Necromancer, but not quite the same.”

Bilbo nodded tiredly.

“I answer many of your questions yet you haven’t answered mine. Why are you awake?” he asked again noticing Bilbo’s pallor.

“I was woken up by some noise at my window,” he replied.

Thorin looked at Bilbo intensely and set down his pencil, “The spectres?”

“I suppose so.”

“It wasn’t just noise at the window then, was it?”

Bilbo shook his head, “No, it was whispering.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at the king in surprise, “Sorry?”

“Usually they only visit me, but I don’t think they like light,” he explained gesturing to the candle, “some dead are just desperate to air the grievances of their lives. Especially when no one grieved for them.”

Bilbo nodded gently and soberly, “They visit you every night?”

“No,” corrected Thorin, “they don’t need to grieve so often.”

“Still, it was terrible to hear that at all,” admitted Bilbo.

“I am their king, it’s natural they should come to me with their grievances. And since I bear the crown, I can answer back.”

Thorin watched Bilbo carefully as he nodded again then said, “I’m going to make some tea, do you want any?”

Thorin was embarrassed by the offer but replied, “Yes, alright, thank you.”

It took a while for Bilbo to locate the heavy kettle in the kitchen and for it to boil. To his pleasure there was a propane gas stove in the kitchen and in the meantime he prepared the tea pot which was still on the dining room table. After pouring the boiling water into the pot Thorin came into the dining room and Bilbo asked if he would want any cream or sugar.

“No, thank you, I’ll just take it as is,” he replied.

After a few minutes Bilbo poured the steeped tea and Thorin admitted it was certainly the best tea he ever had, though Bilbo wasn’t sure if that really meant much.

“Thank you,” Bilbo answered nonetheless.

They drank the tea in silence. Bilbo was tired but thoughtful. The fear and cold was being washed away by the tea. After pouring his second cup he asked Thorin, “Do you ever grieve your own death?”

Thorin set down his tea on the saucer and considered the question seriously. He didn’t look back up at Bilbo when he said, “No. I made mistakes in my life; this grave was one I dug myself. But I grieve for the others whose fates I sealed like my royal crest upon hot wax.”

“Are you maybe being too harsh?” asked Bilbo, “it certainly didn’t sound like it was all your fault.”

“I didn’t explain the events fully to you, and perhaps I should now,” said Thorin. He scratched his beard and looked back to him, “I found your questions annoying at first, but now I admit I’m thankful for someone to listen.”

“Well, I suppose you need someone to listen to your grievances like the spectres,” ventured Bilbo with a weak sympathetic smile. Thorin considered him carefully.

“There was a rebellion, like I said, but I never took it seriously. It was a middle class movement, a bunch of brawny students and professionals. They talked a lot but they never had anyone’s support but their own. They were such a small yet radical group and I refused to pay them any attention on principle. I thought I was keeping my head above their madness. But, as you can tell, my head is exactly what they got in the end. Somehow they got the support of a Necromancer. I thought it was ridiculous like everyone else but I learned its authenticity eventually.

The rebels had their base mostly in the largest city of Erebor a little farther south. They were called the Brotherhood of the White Wolf, which comes from an old Orcish legend. The Orcs were the original natives of Erebor before a group of Dwarves from Gundabad settled along the Running River. This group believed they were descendants from those Orcs and that they were reclaiming their land. My royal family, the Durins, are direct descendants of the Dwarrow royal family in Gundabad, you see, and the White Wolf was a sigil of an old and legendary leader of the Orcs, Azog.

It was ridiculous. No one in Erebor was pure Orcish or Dwarvish, there was no question of race or blood. Except, of course, for my family because of the care taken to preserve the royal bloodline in the past. I don’t know where the Necromancer came from but I’m convinced he used the White Wolves as a puppet cause. I think perhaps he wanted the kingdom for his own designs. Whatever the reason, he joined with the group and led them to the castle of Erebor. He raised the dead from the peasant cemeteries and blocked the roads and quarantined the castle. He made a speech before the gates, declaring himself as the Necromancer, and that he had put a curse on the entire castle grounds.

Obviously the peasants and nobles alike were terrified. When the White Wolves weren’t trying to break into the castle or demanding my head, they passed out propaganda and harassed the outlying populace. My guards held the castle fast while I desperately searched for some answer to the black magic.

The castle was under siege for three days before the Necromancer asked for parley with me. I refused the parley and spoke to him only from high above the castle gates. I told him to turn from my castle with his arms and rebels. He threatened to raise an undead army from my people unless I surrendered to execution and allowed for an Orcish king to take the throne. I did not even acknowledge these demands. I ordered my men only to hold the gate and protect the castle.

Soon after the White Riders began to slaughter the peasants indiscriminately. The dead would then rise again until the command of the Necromancer and in time the castle was breached. I was overpowered and taken to an execution block. It was my brother who killed the Necromancer.”

“Your brother?” asked Bilbo bewildered, “I haven’t met him, I assumed Dis was your only sibling!”

“He’s not with us. He followed the Necromancer off the castle grounds and killed him before he could curse an adjacent town to create more soldiers. But he sustained terrible wounds in the battle and died before he could return to the castle. After that I awoke from control of the Necromancer and the curse ripped the castle from the human world. Most of the bodies of the peasants rotted away and they were left as spectres. Anyone else who had still been alive died in the separation. If they didn’t become spectres then they rose again in odd ways, as monsters and half-human creatures, not just re-animated corpses like me.”

Bilbo felt immense pity for Thorin and his family, “So you can never see your brother again?”

“No. Like my parents who died much sooner than any of these events, his soul rests elsewhere,” he answered.

In a small cautious voice Bilbo tried to reassure, “It’s not your fault.”

Thorin jumped to his feet, “I should have never ignored the rebels! I should have realized they were extremists and a possible threat! I should have fought back against the Necromancer! I should have had him killed the moment he threatened any of my people! I was too proud and too scared to act appropriately! I led my castle into ruin, abandoned my kingdom! I should have been more like Frerin. Perhaps he would have been more fit to be king.” Thorin collapsed back onto the hair and put his hand to his head, “And now we’ll never see him again. If I was alive at least I could pray for a reunion in the afterlife. But once you die you can no longer hope for anything, only regret what you did in life.”

Thorin clenched his hands around his neck in frustration and agony. “No, Thorin, stop!” pleaded Bilbo. Thorin gritted his teeth, lost in his misery, and his nails started to draw blood when Bilbo quickly got up and pulled his head from his body.

“Stop that, don’t hurt your body any more than it’s already endured!” directed Bilbo.

“W-what stop! Put me back!” cried his head. His body had immediately pulled his hands away from his neck and was now massaging it.

“If the dead can’t hope, then I’ll hope for you. And if the dead needs someone to grieve, then I’ll grieve for you,” Bilbo told him.

Thorin looked at him in wonder and confusion, “Why? Why would you offer something like that?”

“Honestly,” answered Bilbo sheepishly, “you look a bit pathetic and it’s been centuries. I think it’s time you start to forgive yourself a little and try to grow instead of languish in regret.”

Thorin sighed, “It’s not the same when you’re dead—”

“Yes, well, I’ve been told being cursed isn’t quite the same as being dead, so I think you can manage,” he interrupted.

Thorin glared at Bilbo with soft and contemplative intensity. Suddenly Thorin’s body hugged Bilbo’s body by the middle and pulled him off his feet into the air.

“Wo-woah! Hey!” Bilbo called as he tried to keep his handle on Thorin’s head.

“Don’t drop me! Stop swaying me about! Put him down you loaf!” ordered the head.

The body squeezed Bilbo’s body gently and set him back on the ground. He took his own head from Bilbo’s hands and connected it back to his neck. Thorin straightened himself and said gruffly, “You’re a bit ridiculous, human. Go back to sleep now, the spectres won’t bother you again tonight.”

A little surprised at the sudden shift in topic Bilbo replied, “Yes, alright, I am rather tired.”

He picked up his cup and saucer to clean but Thorin ordered him off to bed directly, “No, just go to sleep!”

“Alright, alright, thank you, then.”

Thorin watched Bilbo leave the dining room and pass by the light from the foyer. He could still feel his warmth against his body from the hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear things up, I'm using Dwarf, Orc, and Elf as ethnicity names instead of race names.
> 
> Not a super fun chapter but themes here will obviously be important throughout the rest of the fanfic. Hallowtide celebrations are mostly going to way lighter hearted and fun but I need to lay down some emotional foundation for character growth.
> 
> I've pulled some ridiculous details from the French Revolution to work as parallels, such as the larger city being Paris and the castle of Erebor being Versailles and the middle class origin. Nothing extensive, though.


	12. Hallowtide Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extensive break between chapters. Explanation at the end, but I would quickly like to mention there almost definitely won't be another update until August. I would also like to thank everyone who has drawn some unbelievably gorgeous fanart for this fic. I track the Hallowbit tag on tumblr, but if I've missed anyone's work please let me know so I can express my love! Also, I've uploaded an 8tracks mix for this fic here: http://8tracks.com/michelle-erik/hallowbit

It wasn’t until the next morning that Bilbo realized his ankle had healed. He had begun to eat the fried eggs Kili had prepared when the vampire asked, “Did you get down alright on your own with your ankle hurt?”

Bilbo had decided not the share the earlier midnight happenings with any others and was surprised in his realization that even then he made it down the stairs just fine, “Yes, I think Oin’s remedy must have done wonders, I’ll have to thank him.”

“That would work just fine, because he’s helping his brother this morning with the last of preparations, and Gloin and Gimli are the last people you’ve yet to meet,” remarked Fili as he set a small plate of buttered toast on the table and sat down next to his brother.

“Oh, yes,” hummed Bilbo, remembering the interruption of yesterday’s tour, “is there a chance I might be able to help them this morning?”

“You want to _help_?” asked Kili amazed.

“Well, I’ve been feeling rather useless these last two days, to be honest,” he answered.

“Hm, well, Kili and I do need to see ma to get our costumes for the Danse Macabre, so I guess it’d be a good way to separate without having to leave you alone,” commented Fili.

“I don’t need a babysitter, you know,” answered Bilbo.

“But that would make us bad hosts!” exclaimed Kili.

 Bilbo rolled his eyes, “What are they preparing?”

“Nothing much, just cleaning off the tombs in the graveyard,” answered Fili, “we finished all the large preparations early, so the last few days has mostly just been cleaning and little things.”

Bilbo was just about finished his toast and decided, “I’ll head off down there then, I think I saw it back when I was on the terrace looking over the corn maze.”

“No! Bilbo, I’ll guide you there, don’t worry!”

“You’ve already proven yourself to be a less than trustworthy guide,” teased Bilbo who gestured to his ankle. Kili squeaked in guilt and settled the matter.

After Bilbo finished his breakfast and thanked the boys for another excellent meal he tightened his scarf around his neck as he stepped out of the stone walls into the crisp morning. The fog of the previous day had dispersed and so had its insulation. The chill bit into his skin and gnawed at his ears which flushed crimson in the faint light of the drowsy sun. He circled around the castle hurriedly, trying to fight off the cold with some exercise, but wondered if it would be too much of a bother to borrow a jacket. After he passed by the border of the corn maze he spotted a dirt path that led down a shallow hill. Following it he found his way to the graveyard.

It was like a small valley with grass growing wildly and with tough, sparse, pale blades. Ivy, weeds, and wildflowers had settled over graves and tombs, obscuring names and epitaphs. Around the graveyards were molehills, collecting the stone memorials into a sleepy hollow. But the graves were empty; the earth had been ripped away some time ago, the holes less violent now than they would have appeared in the past. They had been eroded into calmness by time but they were before every tombstone. Bilbo recalled how the Necromancer had first raised the dead from the graveyard, and in sadness he contemplated how the holes were never refilled, not by the bodies of disturbed or by dirt and mud.

A low click of hooves and Bilbo turned to see the nightmare stallion that had terrified him so dearly upon his first arrival. But its black coat didn’t seem so dark this time, and its orange hair less like fire. He was large, still, like the warhorses of legends, but he was demure. He ate the wild grass and flowers of the tombs happily, his tail swishing in the still chill.

“Hey, there,” cooed Bilbo stepping over to the steed, “I’m sorry now I screamed at you then. You might have scared me, but I shouldn’t have scared you.” The horse didn’t mind as Bilbo scratched its nose and patted its solid shoulder. It neighed contently when he scratched behind its ears, “You haven’t seen any others around, have you?”

The horse continued chewing its food, and not in any meaningful way that Bilbo could see a reply. So he gave the monster a few good pats and wound his way through the graveyard some more, stepping around the holes, and turned a bend around a large mausoleum where he finally found the three relatives he came out to meet. They pulling plants off the tombs and cutting back larger weeds, unaware that Bilbo had come to join their company. He recognized Oin who was muttering over some stranger weeds, perhaps herbs or some similar clinical significance, but was too nervous about meeting the last two members of the castle to speak up. He tried coughing a little anxiously but to no success.

So he steeled himself and took a few steps forward but when he opened his mouth it was only to let out a yell. He had stepped into a hole hidden by the overgrowth and was lucky he hadn’t twisted some other part of his body. He could hear the others above him shuffling over the hole and talking amongst themselves, then Oin called into the grave, “Are ye alright?”

“Yes, thank you, much safer than yesterday’s fall,” he answered. Oin cackled and so did his family.

“I’ll get you up in just a second, poor lad, being tossed about down holes like a ragdoll.”

_That’s rather how I feel_ , thought Bilbo, _a poor ragdoll being tossed about as life pleases. Or maybe it’s how death pleases. Or how a wizard pleases._

In not much time at all a rope ladder was tossed down and Bilbo climbed back out the short journey, “Happens lots, I promise ye,” comforted Oin, gesturing to the hole and ladder.

“Happy to meet you lad, heard lots about ya,” a scaly man with a gourd-red beard chirped as he took Bilbo’s hand. It wasn’t until he let go that Bilbo realized his hand was webbed. His neck had gills and his teeth were pointed, and his coarse, thick, long hair and beard spread around him like he was underwater. Rather than looking elegant, however, the texture of his hair made it seem more like a slimy red cloud, “I’m Gloin, and this is my son, Gimli.”

Bilbo was very confused upon his next introduction. The man was in his early adulthood and had hair and a beard to match his father, although it didn’t float and he certainly wasn’t scaly. Gimli wasn’t the first person he had met in Erebor to seem deceptively normal but he couldn’t spot any signs of the undead curse. In mannerisms, like hair, Gimli was also very much like his father, “Ay, very good to meet you, the royal brats won’t shut up about you. We were supposed to meet you yesterday but you took a different fall. Well, fate seems to want to repeat,” another gesture to the hole, “but it won’t win this time. You’re ankle’s even better!”

“Oh, why, yes, it is! I wanted to thank Oin for his attention yesterday, clearly it’s as right as rain in June, now. And to meet and your father, of course,” he said with a nod towards Gloin, who was looking on his son proudly.

“You can’t say you’ve met me ‘till you’ve seen me use my axe, though,” answered Gimli, “but I left back at the castle for today, along with my mask. This job’s a bit too delicate for them,” he added with disappointment.

“An axe? Dear me, what do you need the axe for?” asked Bilbo.

“For hewing Orc-necks!” answered Gimli with a boisterous laugh, “Or at least the ones that had the audacity to stick around the castle undead.”

“Gimli’s the executioner of Erebor, Bilbo, and a talented one at that,” elaborated Gandalf, who appeared behind Bilbo with a puff of his pipe and no invitation.

“Gandalf!” exclaimed Oin in shock, “you suddenly appear like that and you’ll frighten all of us back to death again.”

“Perhaps you will if you overreact so badly,” quipped Gandalf.

“To what do we owe the pleasure,” bowed Gloin in greeting.

“I came to ask Bilbo to return to the castle for a moment, I think his help is needed.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Thorin has lost his head again. Became quite upset upon receiving a response from the Elvenking, I believe they wish to stay the Danse Macabre still and would delighted to meet the guest of honour,” answered Gandalf who then winked at Bilbo.

Quite exasperated, and a little flustered, Bilbo wasn’t sure how to respond, and Gimli was quick to declare, “Blasted Elves can’t tell they’re not wanted! They don’t spare us a thought when their celebrations come around but are fast to overstay their welcome at ours. The day I meet a reasonable Elf will be a day of reckoning for worlds, cursed and not!” Both Oin and Gloin were vocal in their agreement.

Gandalf rolled his eyes and ushered Bilbo away from the family, “Come now, Bilbo, if you would please,” and the poor man let himself be guided back to the castle by the wizard.

Before Bilbo even passed back through the threshold into the castle he could hear Thorin’s yelling and profanity.  He walked quickly through the halls, following the voice, and in a second floor hallway he found the head yelling at a confused body.

“Over _here_ you oaf! _Down here!_ Bless me! Can an Elf not read the implied? Perhaps I should I have simply sent them a reply that read _NO_ in gold leaf! Or would that still not be clear enough? _Where are you going?_ ”

The body had tripped over a plain oak chair. Bilbo went over to help it up for which the body managed to convey gratitude.

“Or maybe they can’t understand anything not sang in lyric and poorly conceived rhymes!” the head continued, “They’ll probably drown the music at the Danse Macabre with their insipid bells, sewn into their bloody seams. So help me, if they offer to sing! I will not have my dance of death ruined by their ballads about reindeer and _snow sleighs_.”

“Wait,” said Bilbo’s freezing halfway in helping the body to its feet, “do you mean the Elves are _Christmas elves_?”

Finally the head seem to notice Bilbo between his ranting and Bilbo started laughing uncontrollably, “This whole time you’ve been complaining about _Christmas elves?_ At the Halloween Danse Macabre there will be _Santa’s workers?_ ”

“W-well I don’t know about anything like that,” stuttered Thorin’s head, utterly confused at Bilbo’s appearance and humour. The body was standing now but stepped back in panic as Bilbo collapsed in a fit of laughter.

“W-well, I mean… Do you see the issue? I, uh… I’m not sure… er,” the head was simply too taken aback to gather his anger again, and in the meanwhile the body managed to calmly collect it back onto its neck. Thorin walked over to where Bilbo was still laughing but lingered back a little apprehensively, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I am,” he managed to say between laughter. Trying to calm himself down he said, “I’m terribly sorry, I guess this doesn’t make sense, but it really is very funny.”

Wiping away some tears and still giggling a little Bilbo got back to his feet, “You still have preparations to do, right? Don’t go and lose your head again, now.”

“Worry about your own head,” retorted Thorin indignantly, “you seem to be losing it.”

He giggling again a little then said, “Well, if you lose yours again today I won’t come back to put you back together. Let’s try to limit it to once a day.” Thorin was ready to retort again when Bilbo interrupted, “Good bye!” and walked out the hallway giggling.

On his way down the stairs Fili joined up with him, “What was that all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure which part to ask about. You know what, nevermind, I think it’s better as a mystery,” answered Fili amusedly.

“Where’s Kili?” asked Bilbo. He had never seen the brothers apart before.

“He’s getting his fitting with mum for la Danse. He must be pretty excited the Elves will be there for it, though,” he replied.

“Why is that?”

“He has a bit of a crush on an Elf,” winked Fili, “I think Gimli does too, but then again, it’s hard to tell with him. Maybe he really does just want to kill him.”

“Do your people and the Elves really not get along then, or is it just Thorin and the Elvenking?” asked Bilbo.

“An eternal question,” said Fili shaking his head and laughing.

“Thorin said he had to play niceties with him, why is that?”

“Well, our doorways to your world open up on the few days of Halloween, right? Well, their doorways open up near Yule. We can travel to their realm anytime, you see, and sometimes we want to use their doorways in the winter. But’s also an emergency plan. If one of us miss sunset on November first and get stuck in your world, we can get back to our world before spring comes around.”

“That way you don’t have to spend the full year in the other world,” commented Bilbo.

“Well, no, it’s not that. We’re dead, right? Well, autumn and winter are the seasons of the dead. But spring is for rebirth and life. If we, the undead, were to be on your world when spring happens, we would no longer exist in our cursed state,” Fili explained solemnly.

“I see… but then it’s safer for you and your kin than for the Elves. If they go out on Yule and miss the doorway they’re gone for sure.”

Fili nodded, “Yes, that’s happened before, and it was the Elevenking’s wife, no less. Now they always come back by sunrise the day the doorways lock, instead of sunset, just be safe.”

The conversation had sobered Bilbo considerably, no longer feeling the giggles of earlier. “But hey,” chirped Fili, “make sure you go the castle square by a quarter to midnight. I don’t know if anyone told you yet, but that’s when the first Hallowtide celebration is.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t heard about that yet. Thank you, I’ll be there.”

“Let’s make lunch now, though, you must be hungry.”

“It’s not even noon yet! Are you going to feed me a second breakfast?”

“Why not?” said Fili jokingly, “or maybe it’s just really early tea time, since I haven’t gotten to try a pot of yours yet. Kili will be done soon, and I’ll invite Bofur and whoever else isn’t busy.”

“Oh, alright, but you’re doing to make me even fatter than I already am,” Bilbo patted his generous belly.

 

* * *

 

It was sixteen to midnight and Bilbo stood outside in the void-like blackness, scarf pulled above his nose and ears. Everyone was standing outside in silence, and when that final minute passed candles suddenly lit from every corner of the courtyard. Facing in front of the small crowd was Thorin and Dis, appearances flame-like from the candles. Dis raised her hands, put them together, then parted them. Synchronized, the clouds parted and revealed the moon, larger and brighter than Bilbo had ever seen it, perfect in its roundness, a deep lamp-like gold. The castle’s outline shone and Dis raised her hands up. The thick stone slabs of the castle twisted, bended, and transmuted into pointed gates and grim grinning faces and broken crosses. Dis had laid thick a supernatural spookiness upon the castle and everyone cheered with screams. Hallowtide had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Hallowtide begins next chapter!
> 
> Anyone familiar with very old art of mine for this fic will notice that I switched Gloin's monster type around. I didn't at first include Gimli but he makes a better executioner than his dad (how many times in the LOTR series does he even say some variation of hewing orc-necks??). I chose a water monster for Gloin simply because it was a major archetype I hadn't hit yet!
> 
> I hope you enjoy Christmas Elves. It's going to be SO much fun to write.
> 
> Basically what's happening with my personal life is I'm working fulltime while also having to finish off last semester's papers by the end of July because I got chronically sick last semester. I've only got one more essay to write though, and I might finish it before August starts and I might not, but either way there's only one more!! Yeah!!


	13. The Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of Hallowtide begins!

There was only a small breakfast ready for Bilbo the next day and he was promptly told he wouldn’t need much. The morning was sunny and warmer but still he folded the scarf carefully around his neck as the two brothers talked to him all the way out the courtyard and beyond the castle gate, still spookified and decorated from last night.

“So I mean, yeah I guess today is the least fun of all the Hallowtide days because it’s a lot of work too, but Bombur makes the best pies so it’s definitely work it,” babbled Kili.

“You said we’re harvesting everything but the pumpkins, right? Why aren’t gathering pumpkins?” Bilbo interrupted.

“It’s tradition that we don’t go into the pumpkin patch until the morning of the Jack-o-Lantern Vigil,” explained Fili, “although it does unfortunately mean we won’t get pumpkin pie until All Hallow’s Feast.”

“And that’s the day right before Halloween?” asked Bilbo as he built a calendar in his mind, “Wait, can I go back on midnight after the All Hallow’s Feast, then?”

Kili looked at him watery eyed and frowning, utterly heartbroken that Bilbo would be thinking about leaving, and on the first day of Hallowtide! “No! You’d have to wait until sunset on Halloween, I’m so sorry to tell you!”

Bilbo sighed at the boy, “Don’t look at me like that. I wanted to have my shop open, remember? No one specified the time of day I could go back, I guess that’s far too little time to even bother opening the store. Well, at least to replace the clock.”

“Oh, how is the clock, by the way?” asked Kili with cheer.

“It’s doing just fine, thank you, I shall let it know that you inquired after it. Though, it did have a headache last night,” replied Bilbo with mock concern but he winked at Kili before he could even pout again.

Outside the castle gate were three horse-drawn wagons with hay stacked as seats. Bilbo remembered fondly the last hayride he had done as a child, although in that case it was pulled by tractor and his family discovered his toddler cousin had a grass allergy. Pulling each carriage was a horse with the same orange mane and black hide as Thorin’s steed.  Although not quite as big they were still very sturdy and large. Painted on each side was their skeleton. As Bilbo was directed into one of the wagons he patted the horse fondly and asked, “What kind of horses are these?”

“They’re Friesians,” answered Thorin who pulled himself up into the wagon after Bilbo and his nephews.

“Are they undead too?” asked Bilbo uncertainly.

“Oh, no,” replied Fili waving his hand, “they’re the only living things here. Besides you, that is. And maybe the plants. I’m not really sure about the plants… They never rot, but they can still grow? It’s weird.”

“Horses are the only live animals we keep,” explained Thorin. Bilbo nodded remembering how meatless his meals had been.

Balin came into the wagon next, winked at Bilbo, and said, “I hope you’re ready for today’s harvest.”

“I think I’m always ready to get vegetables for eating,” joked Bilbo.

Almost everyone was in the wagons now, Gimli, Gloin, and Oin arriving last, whom Bilbo waved to as they climbed into a wagon farther back. Although Bofur wasn’t in any of the wagons, he noted, and neither was Dis. Many of the Ereborians were dressed in more practical and less fancy clothes. Kili had changed his Victorian evening attire for a simple shirt and pants with a light jacket that were close to what Bilbo had borrowed on his first morning. Thorin still wore his crown, but he left behind his tattered cape and a few layers for a single thick and long sleeved shirt. The sleeves were folded above his forearms and the collar done up tightly around his neck to help steady the two body parts. They started the wagons without much ceremony and it was pulled up through the vegetable patches until they reached a meeting place of three different patches where Bofur stood with a pitchfork in hand.

“Welcome back to the fields, everyone! I don’t think some of you have stepped past the gate since last year, shame on ya. Well, you’re already seated rather evenly in the three carriages, so you have ‘till noon to pick the most from your own patch then we move onto the apples!” declared Bofur with somehow more enthusiasm than usual, “The King’s wagon is picking parsnips, beets, radishes, and carrots! The Chef’s wagon will pick onions, garlic, leeks, and potatoes!  The Princess’ wagon will be gathering cauliflower, cabbages, broccoli, and Brussel sprouts! Pile them into your wagons, good contestants, and hope your wagon’s the heaviest by the end!”

Bofur hollered and set off the race and Bilbo asked Thorin in amazement, “The Harvest is a _competition_?”

“Yes, with Bofur as the judge. We have you here to even out the numbers, so we can finally win. Now let’s get going, human.”

“Wait, but it’s not even, is it? The third wagon is short one person, where is Dis?”

“Right here, Bilbo!” declared Dis as she appeared with a bang and explosion of smoke, bats rising off into the sky and lightning cracking. Thorin smacked his forehead. “And you, brother!” she pointed at the king, “I hope you’re ready to lose again this year!”

“I don’t know about that, Dis, you’ll have to fight against more even competition this time,” he replied putting a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, “are you sure you can handle a fair fight?”

“Oh please! You’ve bragged about how you can beat me on your own enough times to lose the right to _that_ complaint. Let’s not waste any more time! You could have all the extra help in the living world and still lose!” Dis laughed maniacally before turning away to her group and walking off.

“She takes Harvest day much too seriously,” groaned Thorin.

“So does he,” whispered Fili.

The three teams picked diligently, with Thorin, Bilbo, Kili, Fili, and Balin in one group. The second group had Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, and Ori, although Balin vouched to Bilbo that Bofur had no bias to his brother and cousin. Apparently he was not just a thematically fitting judge, but also a very honest one. Dis’ team had Dwalin, Gloin, Oin, and Gimli, and every few minutes Thorin would glance over in frustration and at their rapidly growing pile.

“Bloody broccoli and cauliflower, they got the easy patch this year,” he growled.

Bilbo was simply enjoying having his hands in soil too much to feel rushed. Every carrot he dug out of the earth felt wonderfully firm and heavy in his hand. The dirt was a bit cold at the surface but was rich and warm underneath. The vegetables were an excellent colour, too.

“You’re picking those carrots awfully slow, human,” snapped Thorin.

“Would you like me to lend you my scarf? Because I think you might be close to losing your head again, and that would be bad in the middle of a race,” quipped Bilbo.

“I’m sorry.”

Bilbo waved off his apology, “Don’t worry about a thing, Thorin, just have fun.”

“Right,” he said courtly and walked to the wagon to dump off his parsnips.  He then came back over to Bilbo who already had three more carrots, “Maybe we should just all pick the carrots, it’s the easiest in the patch and we could beat them that way.”

Bilbo smacked Thorin in a teasing way, “It’s a harvest! Wouldn’t be much of a pull if all we had were carrots and no beets or radishes. I don’t think Bombur would be all that pleased while planning the feast and dinners when he had none of those to prepare.”

“You’re right,” said Thorin shaking his head, “I think I’m getting carried away in the competition.”

They picked vegetables for about three hours and most of them were obviously sore and tired. Bilbo felt energized by the plants and dirt and was quite looking forward to the orchards. Despite the competiveness the piles of vegetables were more or less even, although the Princess wagon did win by a margin. There were still much left in the patches, but as Bilbo realized they weren’t trying to harvest a whole crop, simply enough for Hallowtide. The orchards were a ways away from the castle, at the edge of the cursed realm, and the long ride gave the pickers a chance to rest while Bofur directed the horses. Poor Balin spent most of the ride trying to get dirt cleaned from his bandages.

“So what’s the prize to the winning team?” asked Bilbo jolly.

“It’s mostly bragging rights,” said Fili, “but we do also get the first slices of pumpkin pie during the All Hallow’s Feast.”

When they arrived at the orchard Bilbo was taken aback. The trees were enormous and few, towering above them with apples dangled far above. Like much of the realm, it was a piece of working history. Bilbo had stepped through an orchard on a few occasions, especially during the fall season, but the trees were small, usually only so much taller than an average person. The apple trees had been bred over time to be more plentiful in bounty and number. Smaller trees meant more of them on an orchard as well as an easier harvest. Bilbo wondered if the peculiar life-death state of the plants meant the trees were never pruned. The branches seemed to him too large and sprawling to be good for an orchard, which are usually pruned of the unnecessary branches so the trees will concentrate their energy into the fruit.

Here once again the harvesters were asked to pick as many apples as possible, but additionally their bounties would be judged on the overall qualities of the apples. They were all fitted with bags with straps that needed to slipped on over the arms and onto the back but which the bag itself rested on the stomach. Against the trees were ladders, tall and like inverted triangles for support. Some of the Eereborians had advantages here, like Kili who flew up into the high branches of one of the trees as a bat before turning back into his usual form. Though he struggled pulling his bag along with him. Ori floated up into his tree and shook the branches, which Dori then waited below to catch. They would likely be bruised, however, which Bombur affirmed by his fussing.

Bilbo nervously stepped onto the first couple rungs of a ladder against a tree not yet climbed, but has he climbed a little higher he felt the ladder shake and he squeaked in panic. Looking down he saw Bofur had taken hold of the ladder to steady it further. He called up to Bilbo in reassurance, “No worries lad, you go ahead now.”

Bilbo nodded to him and kept climbing. He felt safer when he reached the limbs of the tree and climbed all the way to the very top. He looked out over leaves of the tree and marvelled at how high he was. It wasn’t much compared to the towers he had visited as a tourist, let alone his tower bedroom in the castle, but there was something more impressive about climbing, not just walking up steps. There was a sense of accomplishment that came with it, along with the small thrill of the danger of a snapping branch that a modern tower’s elevator glossed. This simple sense of danger spoke to a small, neglected part of him.

He was looking into the sky, the horizon, the distant mountains and rivers and even a lost lake when he noticed the peculiarity of the landscape. It was like it was imprinted on the countless iridescent wings of butterflies, occasionally fluttering, all settled on a covered wall only a dozen yards away. It was the edge of the realm. Like a snow globe, Bilbo thought, wondering if the wings every fluttered away what would be seen behind them. Maybe it was just void, the blank darkness of limbo that Jack is cursed to wander with his gourd lantern in hand.

He then looked back over towards the wagons. None of them had any apples yet and many were still climbing into the massive trees. He took his time then, observing the illusion of the horizon, before ducking back into the branches to actually begin to pick. The apples were so spread out on the giant limbs that he barely got time to sit in one place. Clambering over the limbs were difficult enough without a growing bag and when he got halfway full he found a large and stable knot to rest on for a break. A couple others had climbed into the tree to pick with him. Balin was off on distant branches, but Thorin climbed up beside him and took a seat, his bag empty.

“You haven’t just started picking now, have you?”

“This is my second bag,” answered Thorin, “but the other tree is a bit crowded. My nephews are racing Dori and Ori.”

“Did Dori climb the tree?” asked Bilbo trying to peer through the branches, “Doesn’t Dori only have one arm?”

“Looks like he found the other arm in time for the competition,” grumbled Thorin.

“You’re not still being competitive yourself about this, are you?”

“Well, I guess that’s another reason why I changed trees,” he replied.

“The view is lovely, have you ever looked out from above the tree?”

“Yes, a few times,” said Thorin as the tightened his collar while glancing above and below.

“Are you worried your head will fall off?”

“It would be a long fall to the ground,” he explained.

“It’s not on that precariously, is it?”

“No, but it’s happened before, but to be fair I doubt Kili will manage to throw an apple at my head from another tree.”

Bilbo giggled and offered, “Why don’t you wear my scarf, then? You tie it around tightly, just please be careful with it and be sure to return it.”

“What? Are you sure? You won’t be cold?” stuttered Thorin in surprise.

“No, I’ll be fine,” he said while unwrapping his scarf from around his own neck, “Just take care, the scarf was made by my mother.”

“Thank you,” said Thorin taking the scarf, “I’ll be sure to treat it with due respect.”

He wrapped it around securely and tilted his head back and forth a couple times to test it. Pleased, he said, “Thank you, Bilbo, it feels much better.”

“Oh, no problem, of course,” he said waving his hand, “I better go back to picking if I’m going to catch up with you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Thorin, “I’ve been doing this for centuries, it’s not a surprise you’d take longer.”

“That’s true,” said Bilbo smiling widely. Thorin glanced away in embarrassment.

Nonetheless Bilbo stood back up carefully and climbed over to a set of branch limbs he hadn’t yet visited. The apples here were less plentiful and he considered climbing back to another set when he found one half eaten. Looking more carefully among the branches he found many cores and stubs of stems. He climbed up a couple branches and found thick and widely spun cobwebs. He was about to pop back down a couple branches when he spotted on a web, only a meter away from him, a spider easily as large as a cat. He froze, staring at it for a couple minutes, before climbing away very carefully back to his knot.

Thorin who was still sitting in the same spot noticed him and asked, “You’re pale as snow. What’s the matter?”

“Spiders,” choked Bilbo, “very, very big spiders.”

Thorin grimaced, “Oh, damn. I have no idea where they come from, I certainly never saw any that big while I was alive. You should lay down, are you going to be able to get out of the tree alright?”

Bilbo nodded but felt his legs shaking, “Possibly not. But I think I’ll be alright, just a bit of a fright, I’ve had worse since I got here.”

Thorin helped Bilbo to sit back on his knot and instead made a different arrangement. He picked apples, often coming back to check on Bilbo who had recovered from the spook fairly quickly, thank you, and to place the apples he had picked into his bag. That way Thorin was able to fill two bags while only carrying one among the branches, making it easier to manoeuvre the limbs. He only had to carry both bags down the ladder, which was simple enough for his size and strength. In this way Bilbo got out of having to do any work, and yet it still worked very efficiently.

By the end of the challenge they had managed to collect for apples than Dis’ team, equaling their points. The Chef’s team had suffered somewhat from the bruised apples. Next it was time to return to the castle.

“What are we doing next, if not more harvesting? It’s not even late afternoon,” asked Bilbo.

Kili who had been fidgeting in excitement explained, “Next is the pie baking competition! It’s the final part of the competition, but it’s also the best because we finally get to eat something.”

Fili smacked his brother on the back of the head, “You mean you’re finally _allowed_ to eat something. We could have gotten more points if you had stopped eating the apples!”

“They were so red, though, I couldn’t help it,” whimpered Kili running his tongue over his elongated canines.

“It’s a bit unfair, though,” commented Balin, “Since Bombur obviously makes the best pies among us. Sometimes the Princess’ team manages to win overall by a couple points, but more often than not they steal the competition.”

“I make a fair pie myself, I think Bombur will find it difficult to best the Baggins family recipe.”

Kili wooted but Thorin rolled his eyes, fidgeting with the wrap of the scarf.

When the wagons pulled through the castle gate everyone helped unload the harvest bounty for storage. Only some of the apples were hauled into the kitchen for the pie bake-off, and once the other main ingredients were laid out Bofur gave the starting signal. The baking competition took up not only the kitchen but went through the dining room to the lobby. Tables were laid out with tablecloths and the oven use would be done in batches for whoever had their pie ready at the time.  Kili and Fili quickly dragged Bilbo off to prepare his pie sandwiched between the two of them.  Kili was dead-set on learning his secret formula that would finally defeat Bombur.

“It’s a _secret_ family recipe, Kili, I can’t tell you what it is,” explained Bilbo exasperated.

“But I’m going to see you do it, aren’t I?”

“That may be true, but there’s something a lot worse about actually saying it out loud.”

“If you tell us, though, we could make better pies ourselves and raise the whole team’s score,” said Fili.

“Don’t you start too,” replied Bilbo giving him a sharp but amused look.

Bilbo worked too fast mostly for either brothers to be able to keep up his family secret. He added cinnamon into the pie crust as well as among the apple slices. He added in a good deal of lemon juice before adding the top layer of crust, too. When he brought his pie over to Bombur at the oven they were the only two who had yet to complete their pies.

“I heard you’re going to be stiff competition,” joked Bombur, “Kili thinks I’m going to finally lose.”

“He could be right,” said Bilbo, “I guess we’ll just have to see.” Despite advocating against competition during the previous harvest activities, Bilbo definitely felt a smolder of the contest now. Picking apples and carrots may be one thing but baking pies was an art he had studied and practiced under the finest of old fashioned grandmothers.

Dis was the next one to be finished. Bilbo could tell she had decided to leave her apple skins on with her pie. A bit risky, he thought, especially since they weren’t going to be able to watch the oven closely themselves, but if it worked it could mean a big score.

“Looks like Bilbo really is going to make a difference to my brother’s team,” she said winking at him, “but I’ve passed by his disaster on the way here, I’m not sure even you could save that team.”

Bilbo had a good chance to socialize while he waited for his pie to bake. He was happy to have more time to talk to Ori and his brothers who he had met so briefly beforehand. Nori was shocked to hear that Bilbo, a small and tame looking man, knew how to pick locks.

“A lot of antiques lose their keys, you see. Sometimes you can buy replacements but that’s still lost money and time if you can just pick it yourself. Though if you’re going to sell the box itself, not just its contents, then, of course, you’d want a matching key.”

“Ay, makes sense I see. Still, do you never use it besides with antiques?”

“No, never really. But I don’t need to, either. Not going to find a likelier place for gold than an old Spanish chest from the Carribean,” joked Bilbo, exaggerating lightly. Still, Nori laughed.

When the first batch of pies had been pulled out of the oven there was a fair commotion in smelling them: the first pies of Hallowtide. There was also some fuss in trying to decide whose smelled better, and if Bilbo’s lived up to the now overblown expectations. Bofur had to use his referee status to kick everyone out of the kitchen while they cooled. When they did he was the first to have a taste so he could score them. Dis’ apple skins hadn’t managed to fully cook in the time allotted, though she was still rewarded with high points. Bilbo and Bombur had tied with exceptionally high scores.

“Next time,” said Bilbo pleased with the results.

“Oh, so will come a next time, will ya?” asked Bombur.

Bilbo went red around the ears when he realized what he had said and not quite sure if he had meant it. He took his pie and shuffled off with barely a stuttered excuse. Kili and Fili were both enthusiastic about the points, but Kili was still let down nonetheless.

“You said you could beat him!”

“I did _not_. Now go get a plate if you want to try some.”

Bilbo quickly found himself swamped with Ereborians wanting to try a slice, and by time it was all passed around there was none actually left for himself.  He was given excellent praise, though, which returned the redness to his ears.

Soon everyone’s pies were done and waiting to be baked. As the batches were rotated through the ovens Bilbo got to try some pie from nearly every person in the castle. Bifur’s was among some of the best, and surprisingly so was Gimli.

“I practiced from my mam’s recipes as a wee one growing up, gave me a way to connect with her,” he explained.

“That is both lovely and very tragic, thank you for sharing a slice,” Bilbo replied.

In the very last batch was Thorin’s pie, who was fidgeting and moody and refused to share his score. “It’s low,” was all he would elaborate.

“May I try a slice?” asked Bilbo.

“Hmph. Don’t bother, it’s barely even together,” he replied.

Thorin’s pie had caved in while cooking and the top crust barely covered the whole pie. Bilbo insisted and trying some nonetheless and Thorin let him. It fell apart easily when he scooped some out, noticing that Thorin had chopped the apples rather finely, “It’s good! Maybe more as a cobbler than a pie, still good. The only part that could use work really is the crust.”

“Don’t try to cheer me with false praise like I’m a sulking tot,” replied Thorin, taciturn.

“I’m not, honestly. The outside may need some work but on the inside it’s wonderful,” glowed Bilbo.

Thorin unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and set it back around that of Bilbo, “I should have returned this before we started baking, my apologies.”

Bilbo, mouth full, shook his head, “No worries, no worries,” he replied when he at last swallowed.

Bofur had been keeping track of the scores on a tally sheet and was counting everything up while the final slices of pie were being swapped. After twenty or so minutes he called for everyone’s attention, “Well, it’s been a rather exciting Harvest, and I’ve got some equally exciting results!” Everyone cheered. “In third place is the Princess’ team,” loud shouts of surprise and dismay from Dwalin, Gimli, and Gloin while Dis threw her hands in the air and Oin readjusted his ear trumpet, “and in second place is the Chef’s wagon!” Even more shouts of surprise as everyone turned the Thorin’s team, “Congratulations, King’s wagon, you’ve won the Harvest festival!”

Thorin couldn’t hide his glee as he called to his sister, “Remind me what you were saying this morning, Dis? Remind me, please!” Kili and Fili jumped and hollared enthusiastically. The younger brother turned into a bat and did loops around the room while Balin smiled a bit too smugly at his sulking brother. Kili’s loops grew wild and unpredictable until he whacked into the back of Thorin’s head. Bilbo managed to grab it in midair as it tumbled off his shoulders and it called, “Kili! Every Harvest! Every Harvest you knock off my head! For pities’ sake!” Before Bilbo could return the head Thorin’s body it scooped him up and spun around the room in excitement, “STOP! STOP! You’re embarrassing us _and_ making me sick! Stop it you buffoon!”

It took a good hour for them to calm down really at all. Bombur made more pies for them to eat if they weren’t quite full yet along with some other quick dishes from the Harvest bounty. Dwalin brought up the ales with the nephews’ help and they had a social evening while their muscles rested from the day’s labour. Eventually Bilbo realized someone had never shown up.

“What happened to Gandalf, anyways?” he asked Thorin.

“He went off the Elves’ realm. He’ll escort them back here on the Marathon of Horror day. The Harvest in particular he doesn’t seem to enjoy, probably because it involves actual work,” he answered sarcastically.

“He comes and goes often as he pleases,” commented Bilbo idly.

“Yes, he does. I quickly learned to stop waiting for him to appear as he promises,” he answered.

Bilbo was ready to sleep early that night, and was the first to retire in the evening. He wondered if the undead of Erebor really slept at all during the night, remembering the twilight conversation he had with Thorin not too long ago. The hot water of a bath felt excellent after the work of the day and he quickly fell asleep which much pondering over the events of the first day of Hallowtide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long delay, my apologies. I never seem to have as much time as I want. This chapter is quite a bit longer than the others, and I expect it will be similar for all Hallowtide chapters. I pulled some notable bits from my own experience working in a museum, such as having to pick artifact locks and all apple orchard info. If you're curious about the apple bags, here's some google result links below. ↓ One thing I didn't mention is that the bags are open on both ends, but you secure strings on the bottom onto hooks on the top so the whole bag folds over then unhook the actual bottom so you can dump the apples out easily and gently.  
> http://www.garrettwade.com/images/330/52a0119.jpg  
> http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VKJzD9U4fRs/UF96SpytrcI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cWKKac3NOGM/s1600/036.JPG  
> https://img1.etsystatic.com/004/1/6165354/il_570xN.470963545_j796.jpg


	14. Candy Carnival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second day of Hallowtide! How much candy can poor Bilbo even eat before he crashes like a toddler?

Bilbo munched on a few scones as he sat in wait inside the castle. He gotten up a bit earlier than he should have, apparently, and the day’s set up wasn’t yet complete. Eager to surprise him with the final result, Dori and Ori had stopped him on his way down the stairs and dragged him back up to the upstairs foyer. From the foyer he could hear Bombur busy in the kitchen. The poor chef spent most of Hallowtide preparing for the many meals and buffets of the holidays, the All Hallow’s Feast especially. When Bilbo finished his scones he passed time by examining the antique furniture more closely.

It was all in much better condition than he had feared. Despite the daily wear most of the furniture needed only minor attention, although the art deco sofa was, alas, in too poor of condition to sell either as a functional or collector’s piece. Not that he had planned to smuggle the sofa through the doorway when the time came, but he was a pawn shopkeeper by trade since his father. He had taken his learned impulse to value with him to university, where he surpassed his classmates not only in pre-existing knowledge but also enthusiasm. He quickly made friends with just about all his professors. Through them he was even introduced to a curator of one of the many museums he liked to visit on his downtime.

Having a friendly tour through the collections storage was pivotal moment for Bilbo. Studying history had before been almost genealogical to him. It was related to his father’s shop and reminded him of the very many family artifacts on which the name Baggins or Took was inscribed. And there were _a lot_ of artifacts, most of them rather pointless to keep, to be honest. His mother had even told him a pet name her family had for them: _mathoms_. His favourite were the many maps, and the more outdated they were the greater the pleasure they held for him. But as the curator referred to the artifacts as objects, handed him blue nitrilate disposable gloves, and explained to him the process of numbering  the artifacts (layers of B72 acetone with ink between or else cotton strips carefully stitched between the weaves of textiles), Bilbo fell in love with the museum. He was no longer thinking of his father’s pawn shop back home or of his grandparents’ dusty attics when he thought of history and his future.

When his mother passed and he had to abandon his master’s degree he felt also like he was abandoning that new dream. And perhaps it was selfish to be thinking of himself when he and his father were still grieving; a father who would grieve until his own death only a couple years later. And in those quiet days in the pawn shops, with only the perfume of his own tea and the ticking of the clock, he would miss his parents greatly, but he would miss also the way daylight filtered into the conservation lab. Soft, reflected by the white and sterile walls and counters, but mostly blocked to protect the objects from the UV rays.

Bilbo was quickly snapped out of his daydreaming a humming coming up the staircase. When Dis reached the top she put her hands on her hips and smiled wickedly, “I hope you’re ready, little man!”

“Ready for what?” asked Bilbo somewhat offended.

“For the most fun you’ve likely ever had, but also, for the fiercest sugar rush of your life!” she declared proudly, “Today is the Candy Carnival, and we’re opening our doors!”

Bilbo smiled at her amused, _goodness she is theatrical_ , and hurried to catch up with her as she went back down the stairs.

“We take shifts manning the carnival games so we all get a turn to play, but you get to play the whole time, which is just as well because you’ll probably want to pace yourself. The dead don’t get sugar crashes but I’ve seen my late husband pass out before at this event.”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs Dis took some quick strides ahead of Bilbo and pulled open wide the doors to the courtyard. When his eyes adjusted to the light he was taken aback at the transformation. Stretched above the space to the castle walls was an enormous red and yellow striped canopy. Huge painted boards were spread out all with creepy carnival imagery: demonic grinning clowns with pointed teeth, conjoined twins and deformed sideshow freaks, and a knife thrower who didn’t miss his assistant. Lights were strung across the many tents of activities and there was carnival music eerily altered to fit the theme. There were even animatronic displays at some parts, like a skeletal ring master whose eyes glowed red and jaw clattered and an animal tamer being devoured by his lions. It was overall much more gruesome than anything Bilbo would have seen back home, but considering the inhabitants of Erebor (and the lack of children with parents ready to sue) it wasn’t shocking to him. He was actually delighted by the gore of it all, especially since he was rather desensitized by now, and the smell of popcorn and caramel was even more euphoric.

 “Kili and Fili wanted to see your expression when you first came in but they have to work the first shift,” explained Dis.

“We should stop by their games while they’re working,” said Bilbo. Dis agreed.

They first got some popcorn. The old fashion popper was bewitched by Dis to man itself which Bilbo found astounding, “You must have some powerful magic!”

“Somewhat,” answered Dis sheepishly, “it can only do gimmicky stuff, really, but it’s useful.”

“Well, it’s the most impressive magic _I’ve_ seen.”

Dis laughed, flattered, “You kind of experienced Gandalf’s magic, though, right? With how he forced the doorway open? I can’t do that at all.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, unless it was his magic that made the tree unroot itself and drag me under,” answered Bilbo bitterly.

“You’re still mad at him?” asked Dis.

Bilbo sighed, “I just wish he would explain himself, is all. And now he’s gone off and never said a thing. It’s awfully difficult to like someone who behaves like that, even if he hadn’t shoplifted my clock.”

Dis hummed, “I think he likes to explain things in time, you know? When it feels right? We were very lost when everything was first cursed until he showed up. Kind of, set things straight, and calmed us down. He can be frustrating, but he means well. I think you’ll get along well eventually. That’s on his part to act better, though, of course,” she said with a nod to Bilbo.

Everyone was bustling at the heart of the carnival, and as they made their way towards the first game they passed a stable in which was Thorin’s horse. He had a skeleton painted on his side, like the others from yesterday, and he was relaxed despite the noise and lights. Bilbo stopped to pet its nose, “Hello again dear, you seem to be doing well.”

“Hemlock is a dear horse indeed,” said Dis who scratched beneath its jaw, “Her mother was rescued by Thorin, you know. He was so gentle in rehabilitating her. She passed away some time ago, though.”

“Thorin seems like he’s very careful towards his animals. You all do, really, you don’t eat meat here, is that right?” asked Bilbo.

“You’re right,” said Dis, “it doesn’t feel right to eat a living thing when no longer living ourselves. It’s no longer the circle of life then, it’s just… reinforces how terrible an abomination our cursed death is.”

Bilbo wanted to argue with her, comfort her and reassure her that she wasn’t an “abomination.” But he couldn’t. She was right, really.

“It’s alright though,” Dis grinned, “don’t go feeling sorry for us. We’ve had quite a lot of time to adjust. Now, let’s go play a game and win some candy!”

Dis pulled Bilbo by the arm all the way to the first tent. Bifur was set up with a board covered with inflated balloons. Set on the table in front were five darts. Bifur smiled warmly when they came up to the tent and greeted them in his language.

“Hello Bifur! Bilbo, you go first. You get five darts and you need to pop as many balloons as you can. The more you pop the more candy you get. If you get all five you get something special.”

Bilbo picked the darts off the table and stood at the mark before the balloon board. He tried not to smirk. Darts were popular at family reunions for the Took family, reunions that happened frequently enough for him to ask his father for a dart board of his own to practice when he was a tween. He did wonder why he was being let to throw so close to the balloons, though. He threw the first one gracefully and popped his first balloon, which exploded in blood. Some of it splattered onto him and he froze in panic wondering if it was real or not. Two people burst into laughter behind him.

Apparently as he wound up for the first shot Bofur had joined them and was laughing with Dis at Bilbo’s shock. Bifur scolded his cousin and Bofur apologized half-hearted, “You can relax lad, it’s fake, and it will wash out fine, I promise.”

Bilbo noticed he was carrying pumpkin buckets such as children use for trick-or-treating, “What are those for?” he asked trying not to be bitter as he wiped the blood off his face.

“For the candy you win, o’ course!” he hollered, “Now take your other shots, eh?”

Bilbo stuck his tongue out at the scarecrow but lined up his next dart nonetheless. He threw it but managed to hop back away from the next wave of blood.

“Oh! He’s quick!” exclaimed Bofur.

“You’ve got good aim, Bilbo!” Dis cheered.

“Yeah, remember that next time you to surprise me like this,” replied Bilbo. Dis cackled.

Bilbo got his next three shots in similar fashion, only getting some slight splatters on his pants while he hopped back. Bofur handed him a pumpkin which Bifur filled generously with candy. As a reward for getting all five he was also given a candy apple, which he sucked and chewed on while Dis took her five clumsy shots. She only managed to pop three balloons, but each time she was more thoroughly bloodied than Bilbo had been even on his first balloon. She picked out a couple pieces of gum to chew while Bofur took his shots. He struggled to pop any, and on his last few balloons Dis blew a bubble and let it pop right when his dart planted on the board in a miss. Bilbo chuckled guiltily at the taunt but cheered warmly for Bofur when he finally popped a balloon with his last dart.

“I got a rock,” said Bofur as they walked away from the first tent, greeting Nori and Gloin as they passed by.

“No way,” said Dis, “that’s gotta be a jawbreaker.”

“Looks like a bloody rock to me,” he grumbled, holding up his lone prize.

“Well it’s a bloody jawbreaker,” said Dis wiping some of the fake blood off her clothes onto the candy.

“Oi! Bugger off and bloody up your own trove of goodies!”

They stopped at a face cutout standee while working through their candy (Bilbo had tucked the rest of his popcorn into his pumpkin for now). The standee was of a magician sawing his assistant in half, but of course it was a gory rendition with her torso shown raggedly sliced through and bleeding. Dis posed her face as the magician while Bofur made a shocked and incredulous assistant. Bilbo chocked somewhat on the remainder of his apple while Dis changed expressions and swapped places, trying to see who can outdo the other.

Next they visited Fili at the bucket toss. Five buckets like zombie heads were lined up one behind the other. The player needed to throw a pink brain-like bean bag into each bucket, from closest to farthest. There was again a special prize if you could do all five in order, but Bilbo missed his third bucket.

“Aw, good go Bilbo,” said Fili chipper while giving Bilbo his prize candy.

“Should have seen him with the darts, could have hit a flying canary!” said Dis.

“Don’t tell Kili that, he’ll be so upset to have missed it, I’m a bit upset myself,” replied Fili.

“You can see me throw darts anytime, it’s really not so incredible,” answered Bilbo bashfully.

“We don’t get all that much time with you, though, you’re going back home on Halloween,” said Fili morosely.

“Oh, right,” mumbled Bilbo.

Bofur went next and managed to make it all the way to his fourth bucket but overshot on the last. “See if you can beat me this time,” he challenged Dis.

“Fili, honey, you better give me extra prizes,” she winked at her son as he handed her the bean bag.

“You never give Kili or me extra prizes.”

“Having me as your mother is already your greatest prize.”

Dis did the same as Bilbo but she felt she was given less of a prize than him and complained loudly about ungrateful children as they left.

Fili rolled his eyes, “Bilbo! Kili and I will both be sure to catch up when our shift is over!”

“Look forward to it!” Bilbo called back.

After stopping at a strength tester (at which they all did terribly) they took a break to eat more candy while they watched Gimli get repeatedly dumped into the dunk tank (filled with, again, fake blood) despite his attempts to threaten away any thrower. They then went over to Kili’s tent, who bounded up to the trio excitedly.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for you guys to get here my whole shift! Hurry up and play before it’s time to switch, then we can go off and do stuff together!”

“Is it that close to switching time already?” cried Bofur, “I getter get over back to the balloons in a bit to let off Bifur, let me go first.”

The ring toss was considerably harder than the other games thus far. Maybe it was the greater throwing distance or the unwieldiness of the rings but Bofur didn’t manage to get any around the bottles painted like ghosts.

“Aye, maybe another time, I’ll see ya, Bilbo, Dis, nice spending the morn’ with ya!”

“See you, Bofur, it was nice spending time with you too!”

“Yeah, better luck next time, scarecrow,” winked Dis.

Dis did particularly well at the ring toss, managing to get an impressive four of the five rings on the bottles.  Bilbo suspected that Kili did give his mother more prize than she should have gotten, unlike Fili, as Dis sat down with a candy apple of her own while Bilbo tried the game. He was clumsy but still managed to get one ring around a bottle and very nearly a second, which unreasonably bounced off to everyone’s frustration. Dis and Bilbo hung around a little while until Ori came to switch with Kili, afterwards they met up with Fili.

They first did squash bowling, supervised by Dori. Kili managed to win with an impressive strike on his first throw, earning him a caramel apple, and Fili knocked all the squashes down in two throws. It took Bilbo four throws out of the five allowed to get them all knocked down. Dis knocked all but one down in her first throw, leading to even greater frustration when she missed on her second throw and having to take a third. They ate some of the candy while they appreciated the decor and talked cheerily with Dwalin and Balin as they passed by. As the four of them continued along the carnival they next found Oin’s tent.

He had an impressive display with medical instruments and black boxes with holes on the top and question marks painted along the sides. Bilbo’s historical knowledge of medical equipment was limited and was not sufficient to pick out the individual types of forceps and scalpels, though he did consider with curiosity the pair of forceps with three flat jaws. More interestingly were the working violet ray machines at the tent. Electrical currents danced colourfully inside the glass bulbs and buzzed soothingly. Medical equipment almost always sold at a high price, and _fast_. He couldn’t help but rub his hands together at the thought of the new books he could buy when a client came in looking to sell him his great-grandfather’s old doctor’s bag. Electrotherapeutic machines sold _particularly_ well online. One of the reasons was because its popularity among fetish circles. And while Bilbo didn’t care much for that side of antique appreciation, he was always impressed by their readiness to pay his bills.

The tent had _Dissection_ written across a banner at the top, the idea being to reach into the boxes and guess which body parts you were feeling. Bilbo recalled these kinds of stations set up with ambrosia salads or spaghetti at kid Halloween functions, but he was suspicious of Oin and how seriously he might take his booth.

“He’s not using real body parts, right?” he asked Fili in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t put it past him but I know Thorin makes sure he doesn’t,” he whispered back.

Dis and her sons pushed Bilbo along to going through the boxes first. He hesitated above the first box and braced himself. He pointedly avoided looking directly at Oin’s, whose expression of anticipation was entirely too suspicious. He slipped his hand in and promptly wailed in disgust. Most blind boxes parents put together for their kids were cold and sloppy, but Bilbo’s hand had reached into a warm and pulsing mass of tube-like viscera. He pulled his hand out quickly and saw that it was even red, _more fake blood_ , he thought, but the realism of the intestines stimulated his gag reflex. The royal family only laughed as Fili was next to reach into the box. Bilbo felt a little green as he carefully reached into the next box. In it was a pair of collapsing and expanding lungs, and as he felt them fill beneath his hands he swore he could hear a rasping breath to match. He quickly moved along to the next box while his stomach churned. It was a brain, he guessed. I didn’t pulse like the other boxes and Bilbo found it less disturbing and more interesting.

Behind him his companions were much less disgusted by the boxes, only sticking their tongues out comically or hissing a little. Dis clearly exaggerated her reactions, though, pretending to gag and wailed comedically with intermitted cackles. Bilbo tried for the fourth box and quickly realized he was feeling meat on a partially exposed bone. He choked back his disgust by reminding himself he felt similar dozens of times while eating ribs or turkey legs. The fifth box had a beating heart in it, which Bilbo found much more fascinating than disturbing. It was almost a spiritual experience, holding the organ and feeling it pulse rhythmically. When he finally stepped aside for Fili to touch he realized that he was the only one in the whole carnival who had a working, beating heart. Bilbo could put his fingers to his pulse and feel his own heart beat at any time, but for the undead inhabitants of Erebor this was a sensation long lost or forgotten, or perhaps never even had, like Kili or Fili. Maybe that’s why they were also not so disgusted by the expanding lungs or working, pulsing viscera. For Bilbo it reminded him of his own organs, perhaps similarly ripped out and placed on display. But for them it was too long passed to elicit such a reaction. Fili had probably not felt a beating heart outside of that box since however long ago it was that his father died.

They washed their hands and thanked Oin, who gave them some candy as a reward for making it through all five.

“It’s time for me to go,” said Dis, “there’s a magic show I put on at the end of the third shift and I need to go prepare. I’ll see you later, Bilbo!”

“Thank you for showing me around Dis, good luck with the show,” he replied.

“Oh, all the pleasure is mine, and thank you,” she answered before walking off with a twirl and a flair.

The brothers dragged Bilbo next into the hall of mirrors. Bilbo always best liked the mirrors that made him appear taller, but he didn’t admit that to Kili who was quick to tease him about his shortness. Fili showed Bilbo that some of the mirrors could flip and reveal secret passages, and so they spent a good while exploring them and seeing who could sneak up on each other. Turned out Bilbo was a master of the silent creep.

They next visited one of the largest tents of the carnival: and also one of the most traditional. Apple bobbing was set up, along with treacle scones hung from strings that needed to be eaten with only the players’ mouth. Supervising this tent was Thorin who scowled at his nephews as they laughed mischievously upon entering.

“You two look like you already have enough candy,” commented Thorin.

“No way!” said Kili, “Look at Bilbo’s pumpkin; he’s been rocking the games all day! Though we missed seeing him at darts, heard he got a perfect score!”

“I’m sorry you missed seeing me splatter blood all over my face,” answered Bilbo rolling his eyes.

“Hey, at least it’s edible blood,” replied Fili.

“Was it? Well, can’t say I was tempted to try it anyway,” said Bilbo.

“Really? It always looks so appetizing to me,” said Kili.

“Hello, Thorin, good day to you!” said Bilbo, turning brightly to the king and ignoring Kili’s comment.

“What? Oh, yes, Bilbo, good day to you too,” replied Thorin clumsily.

“Bilbo, watch how fast I can get an apple!” called Kili. He bared his fangs and stuck his head into the pool and quickly pulled back out. His canines had easily pierced and snagged the apple. Bilbo clapped for him indulgently. Unfortunately Kili had more difficulty pulling the apple back out. Thorin was considerably less impressed.

 Fili rolled his eyes and pushed his brother out of the way. He too managed to get an apple in a single dunk, though he took more time than Kili. He eventually pinned an apple again the side of pool and pulled it out triumphantly.

“Your turn!” Kili chirped, turning expectantly to Bilbo.

“Er, maybe not this one. I’d rather skip it,” he said to Kili, whose face crumpled. Bilbo wondered if Kili’s expressions were inherited from Dis’ theatrics; his face was the picture of heartbreak.

“Aw, why not? You’ve done everything else, even the dissection!” said Fili, clapping Bilbo on the back.

“Never been very comfortable with apple bobbing,” muttered Bilbo who tried not to wring his hands nervously.

“Aw, Bilbo, please?” whined Kili.

“Stop it, both of you. He doesn’t have to anything he’s not comfortable with,” Thorin barked at them.

“But why not?” asked Kili.

“I had a near-drowning experience as a kid,” he told Kili, “some friends roped me into riding barrels down a river and mine flipped.”

Kili considered Bilbo intensely, drawing his eyebrows together in concentration, and said, “You could go apple bobbing with uncle’s head.”

Thorin began to redden with indignation, but before he could say anything Bilbo cut in, “Kili, that really is rather rude. I know you meant to be funny, but I think you took it too far. Maybe you should apologize.”

Kili apologized and Thorin calmed down, Bilbo having successfully diffused his anger.

“I’ll try the treacle scone, though,” he said wandering over to the other side of the tent. There was already a scone hung from the tent roof, dripping thick syrupy treacle. Bilbo, unfortunately, was too short to reach it properly. Thorin rehung it a bit lower and Bilbo held his hands behind his back. Fili volunteered as his racing partner and Kili counted them down from three. There really is no way to eat without your hands with any grace or dignity, but fortunately Kili’s boundless enthusiasm and cheering helped make it less embarrassing, as well as the three’s frequent pauses to laugh at themselves and the game.

Thorin, however, remained stiff and quiet throughout the race which made it difficult not to feel at least somewhat abashed. Bilbo also had to stop frequently to lick off some of the surplus treacle from his face, which quickly became sticky beyond his tongue’s salvation. Fili won the race by a fair margin but Kili egged Bilbo through the rest of scone. Soapy water and paper towels were provided for them to wash their faces afterwards. When Bilbo finally looked back over at Thorin he staring at the floor, fidgeting uncomfortably and visibly flushed.

“Aw, the second shift is almost over,” said Kili checking a pocket watch, “Mum said she wanted us over to help set up for her act by the start of the third shift, but we’ve still got a bit of time.”

They hung around Thorin’s tent for the last little while, eating candy while Bilbo shared the whole disastrous adventure of barrel-riding down the river. It was actually much funnier than scary, in retrospect at least, but Bilbo still couldn’t bring himself to submerge his head even years later. When Dwalin came to relieve Thorin at the end of the shift the brothers said their farewell.

“We’ll see you at the magic show, Bilbo!” called Kili has the two left.

“See you then!” he replied, wondering what to do next.

“Bilbo, wait up,” said Thorin, then turning to Dwalin, “I haven’t swapped the water out since a couple bobbers ago, better do that right away.”

“Aye, no worries, go on your date, now,” replied Dwalin.

 “ _SHUT UP you science fair mishap,_ ” hissed Thorin, punching him in the arm then walking over to Bilbo, “Come on.”

Thorin led him abruptly away and walked together in silence. They passed some skee ball machines and even a shooting range but Bilbo was beginning to feel exhausted from all the games. Instead he spotted a carousel. The horses were skeletal or black with red eyes and fiery manes. Many weren’t horses at all but a variety of monsters, including gigantic spiders or bats with bloody mouths and snarling hyena-like wolves.

“Will you go on the carousel with me?” Bilbo asked Thorin.

“The carousel? _Really_?”

“What? I’ve already eaten a scone with my mouth alone; I don’t have much more dignity to lose.”

“‘Undignified’ wouldn’t have been my word of choice,” muttered Thorin.

“How would you have described it?”

“I’ll go on the carousel with you,” he quickly said, dodging the question.

Bilbo picked out one of the skeletal horses to ride but Thorin was still reluctant to actually get on the ride and hesitated at the edge of the carousel.

“Do you want me to pick out which one you should ride?” asked Bilbo sarcastically.

“I know what I want to ride, you’re it,” replied Thorin “No, I mean, you’re _on_ it. Nevermind, I’ll just, I’ll ride a different one.”

Thorin seemed to choose the monster the farthest away behind Bilbo without actually losing sight of him, and quickly after he was seated the carousel began on its own. Bilbo always found carousels relaxing, but looking over his shoulder at Thorin he seemed even grumpier than usual. When the ride was over he laughed as he joined back up with Thorin, who said, “Was that worth the trouble?”

“Well, it’s the closest I’ve ever been to actually riding a horse, so I’d say yes,” Bilbo replied.

“What? What do you mean you’ve never ridden a horse? Is that a joke?”

“No, I’ve never ridden a horse! It’s not that weird.”

Thorin contemplated this in confusion.

“There’s been cars around for over a century now, people only ride horses for leisure. You must know this?” Bilbo explained.

“Oh, right,” replied Thorin, “I guess it never occurred to me that people might _never_ ride horses. Well today you shall,” he decided.

“What? Now? Are you serious?”

“Why not? My horse is here, after all, near the front.”

“ _Your horse_? Isn’t your horse a bit big for me? I can barely pet her head!” exclaimed Bilbo.

“It will be fine,” said Thorin, now directing Bilbo along back to the entrance of the carnival, “You’ll just be sitting on her back, I’ll help you up and guide her forward. She’s gentle as can be.”

“Yes, I know that, but she’s so very big and I’m very much not. Couldn’t I try with a smaller horse?”

“There’s a rather full schedule until sundown on Halloween and I doubt I’ll have any other spare time. Stop complaining, I went on the carousel for you, didn’t I?”

“I think I earned that with how many times I’ve reconnected your head, frankly.”

“I thought you did that for your clock? Well, pretend I’m as important as your clock, and do this for me, perhaps.”

“You’re more important than my clock,” said Bilbo, “I’ve just known the clock longer.”

“I think I should be flattered,” replied Thorin sarcastically.

They reached the entrance of the carnival grounds rather quickly and Thorin’s huge mare Hemlock was still calm and relaxed in her small stable. Thorin quickly attached some simple tack onto her.The blanket, saddle with stirrups, and bridle were all unadorned black leather.

“Alright, come to her side, I’ll help you up,” Thorin ordered Bilbo.

“Uh, are you sure? Maybe you misjudged our size difference, now is a good time to reconsider.”

“Human, for pity’s sake, step over here and ride this horse!”

Bilbo walked over beside Hemlock, who was so big compared to Bilbo that he would not even be able to get a foot in the stirrup without some assistance. Without warning Thorin lifted him from the sides and Bilbo squeaked in surprise.

“Now put your foot in the stirrup. No, not that one, obviously your left foot!”

Bilbo managed to position himself on the saddle properly and Thorin showed him to hold onto the horn of the saddle. It was incredibly uncomfortable to sit bowlegged on the giant horse and as Thorin eased her out of the stable Bilbo felt certain he was going to be thrown off her side just by the force and length of her strides. Thorin led them carefully towards the carnival. Bilbo liked the feeling of riding something living, and quickly felt an empathetic connection to Hemlock. He did also eventually get a bit more comfortable on her back, but overall he still wished he could have started with a smaller horse. Maybe even a pony, if possible. After a few minutes Thorin finally agreed.

“This is the fastest I can have Hemlock walk without her throwing you off her back.”

“Yes, I can believe that, very easily.”

“I could ride with you, though, if you like. You could see what it’s like riding a horse at a canter, or even a gallop. It’s much smoother.”

“Could she even handle all that weight?” Bilbo asked bewildered.

“Of course, she’s a big strong horse and you don’t weigh much,” he said patting her on the shoulder.

Bilbo was terrified of riding the horse at a faster speed, though he supposed it wouldn’t be so bad with someone else on the back with him. He fancied the idea of charging through the carnival, riding Hemlock the same way he had seen Thorin’s body ride her when he first arrived in Erebor. But then there was also the idea of riding with Thorin, specifically Thorin. He really couldn’t deny to himself that his attraction to the king had been steadily growing since he first picked up his head in the corn maze.

“Yes, alright, if you’re sure she can handle it.”

Thorin genuinely smiled and nodded in reassurance as he handed Bilbo the rope and walked around to the side of the horse. Bilbo edged as far forward on the saddle as he could while Thorin readjusted the stirrups for himself and swung over the back. It was an incredibly awkward how Thorin handled him as he sat him properly in his lap. He then took over the rope and made sure Bilbo was comfortable.

“Yes, very comfortable, no worries,” he said as normally as he could manage.

“Alright, we’ll start with a trot. You’re going to want to try and push yourself up if you can, though that may be difficult without the stirrups.”

Thankfully Thorin only had Hemlock trot for a short distance. Bilbo bounced up and down painfully on the saddle.

“Well, at least we know you won’t fall off,” Thorin teased.

He had Hemlock walk a distance before speeding her into a canter. They quickly managed to go the whole length of the carnival at this speed. Bilbo was enchanted by how the lights, sounds, and smells of the carnival swam past him. Thorin was at ease on the back of a horse. He had a symbiosis with Hemlock, knowing her exact body language and how to work with her. He had her walk back to the front of the carnival, Bilbo excitedly calling out greetings to everyone he passed. Thorin was first to get off Hemlock, then helped Bilbo down next. His legs hurt from the bouncing and the position on the saddle, but he was also flushed from all the physical contact with Thorin. He watched him with some infatuation as he took the tack off Hemlock and placed her back in the stable. He gave her a treat and cooed to her so gently that Bilbo actually sighed.

They then walked together to the back of the carnival where Dis’ magic show was about to begin. Fili and Kili were Dis’ assistants as she transformed innocuous rats and bats into monsters and tamed them before turning them back again, or changing her sons’ appearances to those of others in the crowds, who then did poor impersonations of their look-alikes. She also animated creepy dolls and torn puppets and led them in a marching band routine. She also had a comedy sketch with spooky and unimpressed animals she pulled out of hats that then critiqued her magic and various members of the crowd. Truly, thought Bilbo, Dis was born for the stage. He cheered loudly for her and her sons when her show was over, and when Dis saw him in the crowd, she winked.

There were still more shifts to the carnival and a couple other acts that would be put on (including a strongman performance by Dwalin and knife throwing by Fili) but Bilbo was exhausted. It was barely the evening but he was feeling the start of a massive sugar crash, and after quickly congratulating Dis and her sons and wishing Fili luck in his later act, he wished a good night to them all. He also quickly thanked Thorin for the horse ride before leaving the carnival. He bowed deeply and said, “It was a pleasure, Bilbo. Try not to crash and pass out on the stairs up to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize for the inclusions of the "carnival freak" imagery near the start of the chapter. I know it's an incredibly ableist history but I'm hoping the context will excuse it. I may be very wrong, however, not having any extensive knowledge on the subject, and if it is found offensive or hurtful please let me know.
> 
> All museum details come from my own experience working in a museum over the summer. Walking through a museum's collection storage really is a magical experience. The forceps he's admiring with the three jaws are intestinal/bowel forceps, by the way. Violet ray electrotherapy machines did actually have a legitimate medical use, mostly in skin care, but they were quickly wrongly marketed and used as a quack device (a medical all-heal). They're rather gorgeous, though.
> 
> When I first rode a horse at a trot I really wish someone had told me to push down on the stirrups to stand up, because bouncing around on the back of a horse is not a pleasant experience for either party.


	15. Day of Divination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laziest day of Hallowtide. Bonfires are lit and fortunes are told, some to much confusion.

The Day of Divination was the laziest day of Hallowtide, no contest. Bilbo ate an omelet leisurely that morning while many of the residents of Erebor finished off some of the leftover candy with him in the dining room. Gloin, the greatest fire-starter and the tinder-master among them, had already begun to set up the bonfire later that evening with his son’s help, who was more than happy to hew some tree bark for him with his trusted axe. There were some of Gandalf’s fireworks for the bonfire event as well but the wizard himself was still visiting the Elves and would escort them to Erebor for their stay tomorrow morning.

“This year’s Day of Divination is going to be _so_ much more interesting with you around, though, Bilbo,” commented Kili enthusiastically, candy still in his mouth, “being dead means you don’t have much a fate left, right? So we just get the same results every year.”

“Hm? But you certainly have some chance for fate, don’t you? It’s not like things can’t happen to you yet,” Bilbo replied, “being cursed and all.”

“Yeah,” said Kili, “I guess so, but we always get the same predictions from the Tarot cards every year either way. And they’re usually very dreary, too. You see uncle’s cards, two of them are reversed and one of them is the Tower.”

“I’ve never had my fortune told before by Tarot cards, I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with them,” admitted Bilbo.

“Oh, well!” said Bofur from Bilbo’s other side, “it’s straightforward if you’re the one having your fortune told, it’s up to the card reader to know all the different meanings and such. All you gotta do is ask a question, cut the deck, and listen: none too strenuous! And Oin is a fantastic card reader, he’s got centuries of practice.”

“Yeah, there’s two categories of cards, the Major Arcana and the Minor Arcana,” explained Kili, “The Minor arcana have four suits like playing cards and those are Cups, Swords, Pentacles, and… uh… Wands! Each suit has a theme sort of, like Pentacles are all about money and business. The Major Arcana are the like trump cards, though, and there’s stuff like Death and the Chariot and the Emperor. Oh! And the cards can be laid out in reverse, which gives like a negative spin on the meaning of the cards.”

“You can actually play a trump game with the cards, too, like a regular deck of playing cards,” said Bofur, “mind, Oin will have your head if you touch his cards for that.”

“Do you not get stuff like this at your pawn shop?” asked Kili.

“Oh, well, yes, lots of mystic and superstitious stuff to be sure, but people don’t usually care how they word, so long as you tell them they will,” he joked, “so I never bothered to study them much.”

Balin came into the dining room and started making rounds with slips of paper and a quill with milk inside an inkpot. Bofur explained that everyone takes turns writing one or more fortunes on a slip and after the milk ink dried then Ori and Balin would fit them into walnut shells to roast over the bonfire. The milk would brown from the heat revealing their fortunes. Most of them tried to make their fortunes humorous but Bilbo was stuck at what to write. Eventually he thought to write ominous warnings of small, everyday annoyances.

After Bilbo had finished his breakfast he made a large pot of tea to share around the table. He got many compliments but Dori was the most taken with his cup. Even Dwalin accepted some, although Bilbo saw him slip something undoubtedly alcoholic into it. Kili had snuck into the kitchen to nick a pair of apples and a paring knife. He convinced Bilbo to peel his apple with him and they tossed the peelings over their shoulders at the count of three. The idea was that the peelings would land in the shape of the first letter of the name of the person they were destined to marry.

“They both look like T,” remarked Kili.

“Perhaps we marry into the same family and T is for their surname,” suggested Bilbo.

“Oh, wow, I’ve never thought about the letter as the surname before. Most people here only have one name. Oh! But my father had a surname, so I guess I have one too,” Kili replied.

“What was his name?”

“Lt. Frederick Bullock!” Kili declared proudly.

“Lieutenant? He was in an officer?”

“Yup, he served twice! Oh, hey, we have the same first letter for our surnames!”

“I suppose we do,” answered Bilbo amusedly.

After they had finished eating their peeled apples they wished a good bye to the rest of the company at the table and went to visit Dis in her tower room. She and Fili had transformed it into a Divination Room for the day, with dark fabrics hung on the wall and two tables set up, one with a crystal ball and another at which sat Oin with his deck of Tarot cards.

“Hello Dis, Fili, Oin. Good day to you.”

Fili and Oin greeted Bilbo and Fili in return. There was a blinding flash and Dis appeared in front of them. She wore a dress with gold bangles from which smoke drifted across the floor of the room. “Welcome,” she greeted in a hushed voice, “to the Tower of the Third Eye. Here the cosmos parts and time folds to reveal the future to fearless seekers of premonition. Ask a question and we shall find the answer, slipping past every mortal boundary into the unknown workings of reality.”

“Hey mama,” greeted Kili.

“You do all that using deck of cards and a crystal ball?” asked Bilbo.

“Well, the crystal ball doesn’t work, it’s mostly for show. But the cards are reliable,” answered Dis, “and hello you two, good afternoon.”

Bilbo laughed heartily and wandered over to look at the crystal ball, “It really does nothing?”

“No, it’s not even crystal, it’s just glass,” said Dis coming over to join him, “but I can use magic to make images and such appear. It’s kitschy, but fun.”

Dis waved her hand over the ball and mist formed inside. Looking carefully, Bilbo could see faces in the midst. He recognized them as various faces of the company at Erebor, but they were human and without any of the strange and grotesque features that he had such trouble stomaching at his arrival. “Is this when you were all alive?” he asked.

“Yes, it is. I still remember our living faces well,” answered Dis with only little wistfulness.

Bilbo was fascinated. He recognized Balin by his beard and tried to commit to memory his kindly face. Bofur, too, he was amazed to see as other than burlap and straw. To see Nori and Dori wholesome was also particularly mesmerizing.

Kili grabbed Bilbo by the arm and pulled him away from the crystal ball, “Come on! I want to see your Tarot card reading!”

“No need to pull, now,” he replied.

Fili smacked Kili across the back of his head and Oin shuffled the Tarot cards in anticipation. Bilbo took a seat opposite him and Dis and her sons crowded around the table excitedly.

Oin placed the deck on the table, “Think of a question now and cut the deck. I’m interpreting the answer, mind, so don’t think of a question you don’t want shared.”

“Alright, then”, pondered Bilbo, “Should I be worried about my shop sales?”

Bilbo cut the deck and Oin laid out four cards in a diamond pattern, moving clockwise from the top. His first card at the top of the diamond was the Three of Wands. On the right was the Four of Cups, then at the bottom was the Lovers, and to the Left was the Wheel of Fortune, but it was upside down from Bilbo’s perspective. He heard Kili inhale sharply and mutter, “A reversed card…”

“Well, lad, looks like you’ve have bigger things to have on your mind than your shop,” said Oin.

“What? Like what?”

“This card here,” said Oin tapping the Wheel of Fortune to the left, “represents career. Since it’s reversed I can see you’ve had some delays and unexpected interruptions and bad luck in your career. Ordinarily, I’d think this means you have difficulties coming, but from the rest of the cards, it makes me think it’s been in your past.”

“Yes, I’d say that’s about right,” replied Bilbo.

“This one here though,” he said tapping the Four of Cups to the right, “this one represents finance, and it says that it’s time to re-evaluate your lot in life right now. You’re bored perhaps, eh? Dwelling on the path, feeling dissatisfied, everything too familiar and routine now?”

Bilbo was hesitant to admit how spot on that was about the pawn shop. Bilbo had been spending most of his time remembering his history studies, longing to return to a museum basement, and putting the pawn shop behind him.

“Your bottom card here, the Lovers, isn’t necessarily about love,” continued Oin, “This is your only Major Arcana card, so I’d say it’s the most important. It means you have difficult decision to make, a struggle between two paths that needs to be resolved. But Bilbo, this card says that decision isn’t to be made intellectually, but with intuition. You need to feel your way through this. This card in the formation represents health and happiness. So it’s an important decision.”

“Now your top card is about love, and this one rounds out the picture,” he continued, pointing to the Three of Wands, “Your bad luck in career, your boredom, the difficult decision to make, well there’s a big reward for making the right choice. This card is the fulfillment of a dream. Plans and ventures moving ahead, successful enterprise, all coming from the coincidence of being in the right place at the right time and having the courage to follow your own convictions.”

“My own… convictions?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye, well, considering it’s in the placement for love, I’d say that means following the path or the person you love without letting your mind getting in the way of your heart, and that will lead you to your dream coming to fruition and to happiness.”

“What’s your dream, Bilbo?” asked Kili. Both Fili and Dis hushed him and Kili looked appropriately apologetic.

“Well, I always wanted to curate my own museum exhibition,” thought Bilbo. What he didn’t share was he thought the reading suggested leaving his parents’ pawn shop to continue his education. It’s certainly something he had thought about, but leaving the family store behind would be leaving the last part of his parents that seemed to still be alive. It certainly was a difficult decision.

“Well, then, follow your heart, and you’ll be curating in no time!” declared Kili.

“Do you want a reading next?” asked Bilbo.

“Oh, well, we get the same stuff every year, being dead and all. But I can get a reading done for you to see, if you want!”

He and Bilbo switched places and Oin reshuffled the deck. As Kili cut the deck he asked, “Will I get the most screams at the Marathon of Horror Tomorrow?”

Oin dealt the four cards and Dis gasped while Fili looked on in confusion. Kili went a little pale. After a moment Fili said to Bilbo, “This is a different hand than he’s ever been dealt before.”

At the top, for love, was the Two of Cups. Oin explained how it foretold the beginning of a new romance, partnership, or friendship filled with trust and affection, even resolving conflict between opposites. To the left, for career, was the Two of Pentacles. It foretold vast and imminent changes and movement, which would take many skills to navigate and balance, but if done successfully will result in reward. They all laughed at his bottom card, the Fool, for health and happiness, which described Kili well as someone of innocence, spontaneity, and naivety. But once again it foretold great change and even a complete overturn of the status quo. However, it was optimistic; it was the beginning of a new life cycle and suggested happiness and energy. His last card, for finance, to the right, was the Ten of Cups. It promised lasting happiness and security, true friendship, happy family life, and perfect concord and fulfillment.

“Whatever the great change is, it’s probably what changed your card reading, too,” commented Fili.

“You go next,” encouraged Dis, “maybe your reading is different this year too.”

Fili took place next, and as he cut the deck, he asked, “Is there change coming for me as well?”

His bottom card (health and happiness) affirmed change for him as well. It was the Six of Swords, predicting a solution to current problems and the overcoming of obstacles: a gradual moving away from pain and difficulty. To the right (finance) was the Eight of Wands, which was a card of hope. It said the time and conditions were right for taking initiative and facilitating success, it promised an end to delays. To the left (career) was the Major Arcana card the Sun, which foretold contentment and happiness upon achieving success. It promised acclaim, academic achievement, approval, material happiness, and good health.

“Looks like you’ll have a good career, likely as result of this change. You’ll have it good in love too, see, the Three of Cups: great happiness from love or birth, something coming to fruition that was born out of love. It could mean marriage or perhaps it’s love in your work,” explained Oin.

Fili was overwhelmed by the good news of his cards, “Usually they just tell us how we’re frustrated, dwelling on the past, and at a standstill. What the hell is this great change?” He left the room with tears in his eyes.

Dis had a reading next but her cards were the same as always. They weren’t bad, however, and Dis wasn’t disappointed. “I had my greatest adventure in life with my husband, and I couldn’t be happier with Kili and Fili. I’m glad they now too seem to have a great opportunity coming forward to them,” she explained. Her fortune was a powerful deal of cards, with two Major Arcana and two Queens from the Minor Arcana. Her topmost card, for love, was the Star. It spoke of fresh hope and renewal, a healing of old wounds, and a mental and physical broadening of horizons. “That would be my sons,” she told Bilbo, “We never thought beforehand that we could have children. They changed everything. They brought so much happiness.”

Kili blushed deeply.

Her card for career was the Queen of Wands, which described her as capable, fair, generous, and that she enjoyed social ease and was protective of those in her circle. Her card for health and happiness, the Queen of Swords, described her as complex, courageous, and intelligent who had suffered deep sorrow or loss. “We all have suffered such things deeply,” elaborated Dis, “but I like to think this is about my husband, especially since it also describes balancing two opposing factions to fit my needs. I think those factions would be this world and his.”  

Her last card, for finance, was Temperance, which described combination and innovation through co-operation, and harmony and balance. Once again Dis related this to her husband and sons, “I encouraged my husband to do renovations on the castle. He was a carpenter by trade; actually, he specialized in renovating old buildings, so it was perfect. But it was difficult to get all the supplies here since the door was open for such short of time. It took a lot of co-ordination and I did most of that.”

When Oin was reshuffling the deck after Dis’ reading Fili returned with Thorin in tow.

“Fili told me about his reading. And Kili got a different one too, is that right?” he asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t. You can try, though, of course. Who knows what this big change is,” replied Dis.

“Oh, yes, try it uncle, then I can tell you about my reading,” added Kili.

“Tell me if something new is afoot,” asked Thorin, cutting the deck. He stared with a tense jaw as a new hand was dealt. The top card for romance was the Knight of Cups, the bottom for health and happiness was the Three of Swords, and to the left for career was the Ten of Swords, and to the left for finance was Strength.

“The two Minor Arcana for the Swords suit both describe ruin, disruption, and sorrow, but unlike your usual hand both cards have an optimistic ending. The Ten of Swords tells you that you have reached the lowest point and that things can only get better from here. The Three of Swords tells you that this heartbreak lead to the establishment of something better. Strength is power under control. It is courage, self-control, and generosity. It is fortitude, resolve, and the power of love. It is the ultimate enemy of tyranny. And the Knight of Cups, well, good news Thorin, looks like there’s change and new opportunities of a romantic nature for you. This person is a bringer of opportunities and ideas, he is artistic, refined, amiable, and full of high principals, but be careful not to discourage him,” warned Oin.

“Oooo,” said Dis, “I’m going to get a brother-in-law.”

Thorin looked at her sharply.

“Or a sister-in-law! Who knows who this mystery sweetheart is. Could be any new person you’ve met recently or in the near future. Maybe you’re going to share a very intimate moment with the love of your life this Halloween when you visit the world of the living. Very exciting!”

Thorin shook his head, “The Queen of Swords is supposed to be mature.”

After Thorin’s reading Dis staged visions in the crystal ball to fit the new Tarot readings and made many predictions about what the change was, what Fili’s career would be, and the many ridiculous lovers of Thorin. Dis got the most laughs with her version that Thorin’s head and body each had separate lovers and the body was enamoured with a headless mannequin. Throughout the shenanigans Thorin was distracted and surprisingly did not lose his temper.

After a while Bilbo left the family to get lunch from the kitchen. In the dining room Dori was reading tea leaves and Bilbo drank a cup in leisure while Dori told Bifur about the good luck in career soon to come his way. Afterwards, he joined up with Bofur, Nori, and Dwalin as they played cards in the courtyard.

“How is this related to the Day of Divination may I ask?”

“Well,” replied Nori, “we’re testing the fates, see. Trying to foresee our successes and failures. Broadening the horizons of our third eye and such.”

Bilbo only rolled his eyes and joined for a few hands.

When it was sundown everyone made their way to the bonfire which Gloin had already lit and had been stoking up to a mighty blaze. It had been set up a hilltop overlooking the farmlands, not actually too far from where Bilbo first woke up in Erebor. Poor Bofur and Balin had to keep their distances from the embers but were included in the merriment nonetheless. Bombur brought with him nuts for roasting as well as different kinds of cobblers. Ori came around with a bag filled with the walnuts and they all chose a couple at random and roasted them as well.

“‘You will not win the Marathon of Horror tomorrow. Too bad so sad,’” read Fili, “Nori I am about eighty percent sure you wrote this and you’re going to have to eat this note in twenty-four hours!”

“Yeah, right,” called Nori, “You haven’t won the title of Boogeyman for at least three decades now!”

“Aw, mine’s sad, it says, ‘You will meet a beautiful stranger this Halloween and you will become good friends but you will never see them again any other Halloween,’” read Bofur loudly from away the flames.  Bifur had roasted his nuts for him.

Bilbo cracked his walnut open and read his fortune, “‘Something important to you will get broken before the end of the year,’ as a pawn shop owner, that is especially ominous.”

“Ey, I wrote that one!” called Gimli from across the bonfire.

As the others continued to share their fortunes Bilbo spotted that Thorin had moved away from the bonfire and was sitting down a bit lower on the hill facing the farms and castle. Bilbo snuck beside him, “You’ve been very distracted today.”

A bit startled, Thorin agreed, “Well, yes, our Tarot fortunes have never changed before. I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Hm, well, whatever caused it, at least it seems to be a good thing.”

“I haven’t been wondering what caused the change, I’ve only been wondering what the change is going to be,” he replied.

“What do you mean by that? What caused it?”

“Isn’t that obvious Bilbo?” he asked, his lips curving upwards.

“Well, if it was obvious then I wouldn’t be asking,” he bristled.

“Bilbo, it’s you of course. There’s nothing else new this year. The last time a living human came to Erebor it was also a big change. I got two nephews.”

“Oh, wow, but I don’t think I couldn’t make as big a change as that. I’m just, well, passing through.”

“You’re alive, Bilbo, that means a lot here. You have a power over fate that a dead man, cursed or not, cannot match. Life is made of changes and transformations.”

Bilbo considered this in embarrassed silence.

“I don’t think it’s been properly stated how happy we all are that you are here for Hallowtide. We met in strange circumstances, and it was by the inscrutable will of a wizard, I know, but you already have made changes here. You may not have come here by your own choice, but you have already made our home feel like a home again, and no longer like a cage.”

“I, wow, have I really done all that? Without even knowing it?”

“Yes, Bilbo, you have. Without even trying.”

“Well, I may just have been pulled along for the ride, but I am happy to be here, too. One of my Tarot cards said I was bored and, well, I admit that is true. This is the most fun I’ve had since my parents died, and honestly, the least lonely I’ve felt.”

The two sat in companionable silence for some time, the laughter and caucus of the company above filling the air between them. After a while Gloin, Balin, and Dori went off the light the fireworks. Gandalf had made some of them themed especially for Halloween, with orange, green, and purple illuminating the sky with shapes of skulls and pumpkins and bats. Mostly, though, they were all-occasion, but still spectacular.

“Thorin, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I’m especially happy I met you. I know at times we have friction and all that, but you are good company.”

“Even when I lose my head?” he scoffed.

“Both your head and your body make good company,” Bilbo affirmed.

It was much later into the night, after both of them had returned to the bonfire, that Thorin managed to return the compliment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished up my work this semester. It's been stressful so I haven't been able to work on this fic while I still had classes. I'll try and get as much written as I can this winter break!
> 
> If you're looking for info on Tarot cards, I used this website:  
> http://www.paranormality.com/tarot_meanings.shtml
> 
> Really, Oin should be dealing the hand face down then turning the cards over individually, reading as he goes. There's also lots of many different kinds of formations that you use for card dealing, but this is a common one I wanted to use!


	16. The Elves Arrive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elves arrive from their cursed kingdom for their two days of Hallowtide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just about in time for Christmas, a little late, but a good bit in spirit!

The Ereborians were lined up to receive the Elven guests at the castle gate. The great mountain-like walls of the castle had been opened partway to receive them, and in the middle of the gap stood Thorin. He looked even more regal than Bilbo had ever seen him. The approaching of the despised guests had steeled him into every bit of confidence and pride a king could respectfully don. Bilbo stood beside him, uncomfortably standing out from the crowd. He was wearing some new clothes Dis and Ori had put together for him, a mild royal blue that they chose to compliment is orange tinted hair. Thorin had insisted on him standing beside him as he was also a guest to Erebor and would be the guest of honour at the Danse Macabre. To Bilbo’s discomfort, Thorin seemed to have decided stubbornly to spend the next couple days making Bilbo outshine the Elves and their king most especially.

But when the Elves did arrive Bilbo realized with some relief how futile Thorin’s efforts would be. They heard the jingling of the sleigh bells first, a beautiful clear sound that made the air sing. Bilbo thought seeing Elves arrive via reindeer and sleigh would have made him laugh, but instead, his breathe caught low in his chest and he gaped a little. The reindeer seemed to trail snow behind them, creating frosted paths the sleighs would glide gracefully along towards the gate. Banners of evergreen branches, tinsel, holly, bells, and even ivy were strung around the harnesses of the reindeer and the sleighs. The red of sleighs were brilliantly deep like holly berries or poinsettia and impossibly polished to perfection. There were also golden and silver branches and beads that seemed lackadaisically draped about the sleighs but were too elegantly arranged to have been placed without consideration.

The first Elf Bilbo noticed was a woman with hair more orange than the sleighs but nonetheless complimented elegantly her green attire. She had been driving the main sleigh and stepped out quickly to offer a hand to the most handsomely dressed man Bilbo had ever seen. As the pair approached with other Elves trailing behind Bilbo got to appreciate the intricate details of their clothes.

Thrandruil, the Elvenking, was dressed primarily in shimmering silver that seemed threaded with the glitter of snow and ice itself. His hair flowed like liquid from a crown of berries, leaves, and golden branches. He had also a cape, a deep red like the sleighs, lined with pure white fur that glinted as if dusted with fresh snow. He slung it elegantly about his shoulders and had it wrapped around one of his arms. His robe was shot with streams of gold like long tinsel strings and around the hems of his attire starlight was caught and danced in beautiful beads. There was elaborate and organic looking embroidery along the hems as well. His hair was frosted and frozen in parts, but never comical, always supremely gorgeous. There were small gems like mistletoe and holly berries along the neckline and his blue eyes seemed frozen in the most breathtaking and regal of ways. There were also small and delicate bells sewn into some of the seams.

Thrandruil was welcomed by Thorin and he bowed deeply to Bilbo.

“It is good to meet the guest of honour, I look forward to toasting to you at la Danse Macabre. But first we must be scared together, if the Dwarves can manage it.”

Bilbo flushed and stuttered as he replied, “It is an honour to meet you as well, welcome.” Thrandruil smiled at him warmly and Thorin scowled.

“This is Tauriel, my Captain,” Thrandruil introduced and the redhead bowed.

Tauriel had the leaves of holly and mistletoe embroidered along the long tailed jacket and along the collar and ends of the sleeves were berries and beautiful ribbons. As she stepped near she smelled of cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg, warming Bilbo with the memories of hot and rich winter drinks in the snowy evenings. There were sparse bells on her attire but they were of different sizes and when she moved it was music. There were snowflakes caught in her hair and in her eyes, too, it seemed, but when she smiled she was distinctly the warm fireplace and hearth every winter traveller yearned.

She then stepped back and the prince stepped forward, “And this is my son, Legolas,” Thrandruil introduced.

“How do you,” he bowed.

Legolas was dressed in more furs than either of the other two and his blond hair was startlingly divine next to the earthy and restrained colours of his attire. He favoured neutral grays and browns that were natural to the furs he wore, but there was also a deep maroon jacket with tassels that sat well fitted to his shoulders. He also had brooches of pine and pinecones. His wear was the most practical for the winter, and rather than seeming to be made of the ice and snow of the season such as his father, he had the presence rather of someone well-travelled and enduring of the cold and hardships of the bleakest albeit most beautiful season.

“I do well, thank you, as I hope you do, too,” Bilbo answered.

He could only stutter in front of the impressive and glistening party. Each of the other Elves bowed to him, only half a dozen more, each sparkling, jingling, or bundled in similar but less royal a fashion. Thorin looked between the Elves and Bilbo and was thunderous. Balin led them immediately to the rooms that had already been prepared and allowed them to settle for the next couple days before beginning the Marathon of Horrors. Gandalf in his bland grey robes was next to greet Bilbo and hoped he had a pleasant first few days of Hallowtide.

“Yes, I did, thank you very much, Gandalf. I wonder if you could at least have wished farewell before you left, though. You do seem to come and go without any notice at all,” he replied.

“My apologies, dear Bilbo, I hardly ever think I’m needed or, sometimes, even wanted here, so I don’t think my absence is ever much missed.”

Bilbo scrunched his nose, not sure how to reply.

“…But next time, I will be sure to say something to you, good lad.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Bilbo answered.

Bofur and Bifur helped settle away the sleighs for the stay and brought the reindeer to the stables. Thorin signaled Bilbo to follow him up to the landing of the castle.

“You’ll be going through the haunted house with Thrandruil and the other Elves, but other than that I would rather you stay next to me,” Thorin confided.

“And why is that?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin shuffled on his feet and looked down towards the stairs suspiciously, “You are the guest of honour and I do not want the Elvenking to forget that. He is a proud and vain and I worry he will try to upstage you, especially during the Danse Macabre.”

“Well, considering I was only named the guest of honour as a ploy to scare off Thrandruil, and that didn’t work, perhaps it’s no longer so important to keep me front and center. I don’t know how comfortable I’d be at the Danse Macabre with everyone staring at me, after all, and I think it’s too late to try and scare away Thrandruil now.”

Thorin considered this briefly, “No, he mustn’t forget he is intruding. If he insists on coming at least I can do my most to passively shame him for doing so. Besides, I don’t particularly trust the Elves not to spirit you off.”

Bilbo scoffed, “ _Spirit me away?_ Why on earth would they do that? Why would anyone do that, save Gandalf, apparently.”

Thorin fidgeted in irritation, “I can only imagine perhaps a million or so reasons to spirit you away!”

“Name one,” replied Bilbo leveling Thorin with an unimpressed look.

Thorin threw his hands up in the air as if it was obvious or unreasonable a demand, “ _Well,_ there’s advantages to having a human in a cursed kingdom!”

Bilbo was utterly exasperated, “Advantages? I can’t think of how I have been a single advantage to you lot other than I provided an unsuccessful attempt to keep a Yule king from attending your ball.”

Thorin shook his head vehemently (perhaps too much so, it wobbled a little on the neck), “Do you remember the Tarot cards? I told you, great change is coming to the Lonely Castle thanks to you, good change,” he added quickly.

“Oh, bullocks, you don’t really know any of that is because of me or even what it means. As flattering as it is to assume it because of me, I wouldn’t praise myself over a vague card reading,” Bilbo replied.

“It _is_ because of you,” insisted Thorin.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and Thorin huffed.

After a moment Bilbo replied, “Well, in any case, I won’t say no to staying near you.”

Undoubtedly, with total and heart-fluttering certainty, Thorin had begun to blush before he turned quickly away, mumbled thanks, and actually _ran away_ into the kitchen under pretense of checking on the Danse Macabre buffet that Bombur had already begun to prepare.

Bilbo put this hand to his cheek and bit his lower lip. Thorin was such a ridiculous and grumpy old king but it was charming how soft and pliable a heart he poorly hid under his _very_ handsome exterior. Ever since Bilbo had picked up his head in the maze and they snarked in good humour he thought perhaps they could be very good friends, and while his good looks and sensual presence had made him stutter and flush on occasion, he didn’t fully consider him romantically until now. He mulled over their past interactions and wondered if Thorin had perhaps been considering him romantically. It was a thought that turned his stomach into butterflies but he was too conservative and self-conscious a man to let him take these suspicions at all seriously. Instead, he laughed to himself nervously, and went off to find Gandalf again, who he remembered also went through the haunted house annually.

Bilbo found him in the flurry of the Elves and Dwarves bringing the packed belongings off the sleighs to their rooms. As he was deep in conversation with Thrandruil, Bilbo was about to wander back up to the landing when Gandalf called him over. They had just been talking about him as the Elvenking, it seemed, was very curious about him.

“As I said earlier, Bilbo Baggins, it is a pleasure to meet you. I see you truly are doing much good here in Erebor.”

“Thank you, King Thrandruil, although I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, taken aback.

“Thorin had an impressive scowl, more so than usual, yet still I think his temperament has improved,” the king wondered aloud, not even really looking to the small living human.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know I suppose. But does that have something to do with me?” Bilbo asked.

Thrandruil’s eyes widened in amusement as he looked back upon Bilbo. The edges of his lips lifted to a subtle smile and Bilbo was struck by an intense wisdom and temperance that the ice-like eyes revealed.

“I am much older than Thorin and his kingdom,” explained Thrandruil, “much, much older by far. My kingdom was cursed in nearly ancient times, although you might not guess it. We’ve continued to evolve in our own way alongside the living world. And yet we are tied to Erebor, as it was a sorcerer of a similar magic, a related line even, who cursed us to an eternal winter as the Necromancer that raised the dead in the castle grounds of Erebor.”

Thrandruil paused and tilted his head and lifted one of his impressive and handsome eyebrows as he considered Bilbo briefly before continuing.

“I have much more time and success in coping with what has happened to my kingdom and my people. We have adjusted much more elegantly than this horrific roster of Dwarves. We are undead, yes, like frozen corpses in a winter night lit by stars and reflected by snow. And yet we feel as immortal as those stars, we walk between life and death with grace that those in Erebor have yet to learn. But I agree with Gandalf that you are a key to those in Erebor that will lead them towards an acceptance of their dilemma, and even teach them to be fruitful in their limbo.”

Bilbo blushed and gaped, looking between him and Gandalf, completely overwhelmed, “I’m… I’m so sorry, I don’t follow, I’m not at all sure what you mean.”

Thrandruil’s stare deepened, “That is why Gandalf brought you here, is it not?”

Bilbo looked to Gandalf who coughed and looked away as nonchalantly as he could.

“ _Why_ exactly did you bring me here, Gandalf? Was it not just to fetch Thorin’s head?” Bilbo felt an anger begin to rise beneath his embarrassment.

“My dear Bilbo, Thrandruil speaks so elegantly it is an exaggeration, I only thought you have a calming effect on Thorin, which you certainly have,” he replied.

“You trapped me here for ten days so I could calm down a hot-tempered king?” said Bilbo disbelievingly. Thrandruil smirked mildly as he watched Gandalf stutter.

Without another word Bilbo walked away in exasperation, frustration, and shock. He didn’t even notice where he was walking, his vision had blackened along the edges and he tried to swallow his sour cocktail of emotions. Someone took his forearm gently and led him to side. Looking up abruptly he saw it was Dis. She led him to a private room off the side of the ground floor he had never seen before and she led him to an armchair before shutting the door firmly behind her. She took an adjacent chair to him as he noted the desk, full bookcases, and stacks of papers and letters around the room.

“Bilbo, I would like to tell you something about king Thrandruil if I may, and also my late husband.”

Bilbo blinked in confusion at how the two were related, “Yes, alright, of course Dis,” he replied warmly.

Dis took a couple deep breathes to steady herself before looking Bilbo again directly in the eye, “I met my husband, Frederick Bullock, in the 1920s at an American dancing club on Halloween night. He was a Canadian travelling abroad and he could fill a room with laughter within only a few minutes. He could be a bit of a clown, but he was incredibly sharp. He had served in the First World War as a Military Engineer because of his construction background, but he was quickly promoted as an officer in charge of a unit in the Second Construction Battalion. Have you heard of it?”

“No, I don’t know much on the subject,” admitted Bilbo.

“It’s important to know this Battalion was the only real service a black Canadian could do at the time and he was a white officer. He quickly learned to navigate the racial tension and became very attached to the men working under him. After the war he would frequently go abroad into the United States to support racial equality movements. He loudly supported integration in the army.”

“He sounds like a good man,” said Bilbo.

“Yes,” answered Dis, “he insisted the men under him were made of greater stuff than him. I never saw him treat anyone with disrespect, and I think he would have liked nothing more than to have one of his men leading the unit properly. When I first met him I asked him to meet me at the same club again the next year, and he showed, despite it being abroad. And the year after, too, he came back. The year after that I brought him here, to Erebor, and we soon got married. He spent the next years going between Erebor and your world, making renovations to the castle to modernize it and being the best father possible.”

Dis paused and Bilbo softly held his breathe while Dis gathered her composure again.

“When the Second World War began again he signed up to work as a Military Engineer again but I made him promise only to work on the home front, with training and such. He agreed. But the next time Halloween came I could not find him. Nor the Halloween after that; and nor the Halloween after that. It took me a few years, with only 24 hours to look for him at a time, but I managed to track down his military records and grave. He died in a car accident.”

Bilbo put a hand on Dis’ forearm but she seemed determine to go on without pausing again.

“Ironic, isn’t it? Agreed to stay on the home front and died in a car accident. Irony makes a good story I suppose. But he was gone. Gone like my parents, gone like my brother Frerin, and here I was, to go on forever without ever seeing him.”

Dis looked away from Bilbo as she continued.

“The next Halloween I did not return to Erebor at sundown on November first. Thorin, I heard, had to be dragged back to stop from looking for me before the sun set. I was intent on staying by my husband’s grave until spring. I was determined to die in the thaw and bloom and hopefully go to wherever he rested.”

Bilbo could feel his own eyes water now, “Oh, _Dis._ ”

“It was Thrandruil that found me in December. He stayed by me the full day he had in the living world before his doorway locked. He told me about when he lost his wife. He talked me about their child together and his heartbreak. He talked me into returning to cursed realms with him. He saved me.”

Dis looked back at Bilbo.

“Thrandruil and Thorin have personalities that don’t match. Many of the Elves and Ereborians have personalities that don’t match. But Thorin is also furious at Thrandruil because he saved me when he could not. But it’s misplaced anger and I think he knows deep down that the person he is angry towards is himself. Thorin can overreact to anything regarding Thrandruil but he’s a hurting man. He carries too much guilt on his shoulders already and the Elvenking reminds him of that pain and burden. The two will never get along but Thorin cannot forgive him until he can learn to forgive himself.”

Dis reached over and took Bilbo’s hands in hers.

“Bilbo, don’t let anyone pressure you into doing or thinking or acting in any way you don’t wholeheartedly wish to do for yourself. You are a guest, first and foremost, even if Gandalf has tossed you into our burning pot. Unlike us, you are alive. And you must live only for yourself.”


	17. Marathon of Horrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up about triggers, there's references to suicide (by hanging) this chapter!
> 
> *** TAKING DANSE MACABRE COSTUME SUGGESTIONS: http://batherik.tumblr.com/post/108901386908/hallowbit-danse-macabre-outfits

Bilbo gravitated to Gandalf as the dozen Elves chatted merrily while waiting outside the door to the haunted house. The Marathon of Horrors was due to begin in a few minutes, and although the Elves were light in both their graceful movements and in temperament he felt alienated from the beautiful company before him. They were positively ethereal and seemed entirely detached from Bilbo—detached from all of life in an easy and practiced way. Bilbo was still annoyed at Gandalf for having used and manipulated him into Erebor, but at least had a more grounded and humble presence that intimidated him less than the Elves and even comforted him a little.

As if reading his mind, Gandalf apologized to him gingerly, “Bilbo, dear fellow, I am sorry for taking you on such an adventure without any previous warning at all, but you must acknowledge that it’s rather awkward to ask a person to come to an undead, cursèd land and have him take you at all seriously.”

Bilbo sighed, “Seriously or not, I would rather have liked to have given consent to a ten day vacation, Gandalf.”

The wizard only grumbled.

“Why was it so important to have me here? I would like to say I accept you apology, but I just don’t understand _why._ ”

“Erebor needed a little life brought to it. And Thorin, well, he needed his head pulled out of the mud. Rather literally. I thought you to be the most excellent fellow to help these souls and you’ve proven me more than right.”

Bilbo’s ears reddened a little, “That’s fair praise Gandalf, thank you, but I don’t know what you mean by it. How did you know me to be the right person to help them? I still don’t know how I have helped them at all.”

“Well, Thorin is considerably less brooding than usual. He holds too tightly to the past and to his own mistakes. I hoped the birth of his nephews would convince him there is some hope for a different future for Erebor despite its curse, and for a while that seemed  true. Until, that is, their father passed. Failing to return Dis to Erebor himself that dreadful winter renewed his guilt. There is always hope that Erebor can be a happy place, but that will not happen if Thorin cannot believe in it.”

Bilbo considered this and recalled having repeated to Thorin on multiple occasions that _being cursed isn’t the_ _same as being dead_ and he wondered now if the king had taken that to heart _._ He also remembered with some shock having offered Thorin that one night woken by the spectres that he would take on grieving for them. He had forgotten quickly much of that twilight interlude. Looking over his past words and actions towards the king he wondered what exactly Thorin’s impression of him even was. The things he had done and said over his time in Erebor in context of its history and curse seemed entirely different than how he had meant them at the time. Mostly, he had only meant to get a stubborn bickering head back on its very handsome shoulders, although he undoubtedly had come to care for all his new friends rather deeply in very little time.

“I think then I can forgive you a little Gandalf. Let us be friends, I’ll make you that pot of tea later this evening if you should like.” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled in an appreciative way.

The doors to the haunted house opened impressively. It wasn’t like tarp haunted houses that are typically set up around the holiday; it was an actual aged and eerie mansion. The doors were solid, heavy wood that were in themselves threats. They were the kind of doors like to the lid of a coffin. There were old glass pane windows: pale and ghostly along the walls with delicate metal frames like bars of an elegant cage. The walls of the building had been weathered in a cold and desolate way that in no way suggested weakness in the foundation. Rather, it was a testament to the strength of the architecture; no storm or tool would breach its walls. But it was no fortress, it was a dare: enter though there could be no rescue.

Thrandruil, Legolas, and Tauriel led the Elves into the haunted house. Bilbo stuck close to Gandalf at the back of the party, and although he did feel some fear pool in his stomach, his time in Erebor had made that fear not a thing that weakened Bilbo or made him feel sick; it turned it to excitement.

The inside of the house was not unusual given the exterior and nothing seemed out of place. The atmosphere of the interior was eerie like the outside as well but thicker, almost like Bilbo could reach out with his tongue and taste it. The Elves continued on through the foyer but Bilbo felt no compulsion to follow them. They were going along a path straight through the center of the building and up the main stairs of the spacious foyer which was light by torches. Bilbo instead walked his own direction, away from the obvious path of light, and opened a cabinet against a western wall. He had recognized the time periods of the furniture, of course, but his work as a student of antiques wasn’t the only thing that drove his curiosity.

“What are you doing, Master Bilbo?”

The rest of the party, Gandalf included, had already disappeared up the stairs, but Tauriel had noticed him stray and had followed. Her head was tilted in curiosity, an adorable quirk.

Bilbo smiled at her, “This particular kind of cabinet has secret compartments,” answered Bilbo mischievously as he pressed on a trigger to unlock the hidden drawers below.

Tauriel looked on incredulously as Bilbo pulled out a thin, worn journal from one of the drawers.

“Aha!” he flipped through the pages but many seemed to missing, “there seems to be a layer to this haunted mansion the others may be missing.”

“But how did you know?” she asked in awe, almost but a whisper in the empty and dim room.

“Well, I know my furniture, for one thing, but I suppose I hoped rather than knew there might be another layer to this haunted house,” he answered, skimming the journal.

“What do mean?”

“It’s rather different than a usual haunted house,” he murmured, “it reminds me more of some live theatre performances that were popular where I studied abroad. You were meant not to just watch the actors but interact and explore the set. It taught me to look at spaces differently, is all. Since I grew up learning the importance of furniture and such, it related to me very particularly.”

A set of screams echoed through the mansion impressively – the party had come to the first room of scares. Tauriel jumped violently to the alert. _Fight rather than flight_ , Bilbo thought.

Her attention quickly returned to Bilbo and the journal, however, and he shared with her what was written. The author was apparently the master of the house who had been documenting strange supernatural and morbid happenings. He had apparently been investigating their source but too many pages were missing to make out the full story. In the secret drawer were also matches and Tauriel used them to light a pair of candles on the cabinet for them to carry in their exploration. In the journal the master of the mansion had found a secret passage, the switch to which was on the fireplace in the master suite. They had begun to walk towards the stairs when Bilbo found a page that mentioned how the master had always hid a spare key to the master suite in the study.

“The master suite is probably locked and we’re meant to find the key first,” said Bilbo wisely in foresight, “The study is through the east hall.”

“You’re very good at this Master Bilbo,” Tauriel remarked enthusiastically.

“Just Bilbo, please, and thank you,” he replied.

More screams echoed through the mansion from the second floor above them as they slipped quietly down the hall and found the study door.

“Do you think anything is in there? To scare us?”

“I should hope so. I haven’t screamed once so far.”

When they entered the study Bilbo was disappointed. There was no scare to be found and instead they searched the desk and cabinets for the spare key. Eventually Tauriel found it in the hollow of a book. She had noticed the dust on the shelf around it had been disturbed. They went back up the foyer and climbed the stairs as quietly as possible.

Set up on the second floor foyer was a cannibalistic scene. Body parts were cooked and butchered and being roasted above flames like a rotating pig. The bodies and blood were disturbingly realistic and Bilbo felt Tauriel tense beside him.

“We need to go east again,” he whispered to her, prodding her along.

Eastward took them away from the illuminated path, and to Tauriel’s relief, away from the butcher’s table. Bilbo guessed one of the Ereborians had ambushed the Elves as they passed by the table but now the upper foyer seemed desolate. He was mistaken, however, as when they walked past the roasting bodies a trollish figure shrieked and swung a cleaver at them as he leaped out from behind a pair of bodies on meat hooks. Tauriel screamed and punched the attacker in the face and he was knocked to the ground gracelessly with a grunt.

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, are you ok?” Tauriel asked, quickly stooping to help up the wheezing man.

“Ow, ow, Tauriel, this is the third time in four years! At least try to keep the rate to once every two years, please!” said Fili ripping off his mask. His nose was bleeding but the damage was minimal.

“Tauriel! Bilbo!” called Kili delightly as he hopped over from the butcher’s table and ripped off his own mask, “You guys are behind the rest of the group, what gives?”

“Fili, I really am sorry, maybe I should stop coming to the Marathon of Horrors, I really am no good at this,” said Tauriel while gingerly examining the extent of her damage.

“Nonsense, he’s fine, he’s made of tough stuff. The Marathon of Horrors wouldn’t be the same without you,” Kili winked at Tauriel. Fili glared at him, apparently unimpressed to have his pain brushed off in the name of flirting.

“We’re following the journal,” said Bilbo, “you two are the first to scare us. We thought for sure someone would have been hiding in the study.”

Kili and Fili looked at Bilbo dumfounded. “The journal?” Fili asked after a beat.

“Yes,” said Bilbo unsure at their confusion.

Kili was wide eyed and shaking his head, “No one, _no one_ , in the hundreds of years of the Marathon of Horrors has ever found the journal before. We don’t even bother setting up the scares for that route.”

“Well, is it going to be okay for us to follow it now?” asked Bilbo taken aback, “since you didn’t prepare for the journal to be found?”

“If there’s no scares for that route then it would probably be best for me,” mumbled Tauriel apologetically to Fili.

“I don’t see why you can’t follow it,” said Kili shrugging his shoulders.

“No, wait, hold on, we started using the secret passages to scare visitors a long time ago. You wouldn’t be able to follow the journal without creeping up on them while they were waiting to scare visitors in one of the other rooms,” interjected Fili.

“We could try to scare the scarers,” teased Bilbo.

“I like that idea!” hollered Kili in laughter.

“I don’t know,” said Fili, “it would probably be really disruptive.”

“Come on Fili, no one has ever followed the journal path before! It would be criminal not to let them do it.”

“You have a point,” sighed Fili, “You guys go ahead, so long as you’re alright with there not being any scares waiting for you. It would be more of a mystery path, I guess.”

“I think that’s just fine,” Tauriel replied.

They started heading down the east hall when Kili called, “Oh! And Tauriel, I’m really glad you all got to stay for the Danse Macabre!”

Even in the darkness of the corridor Bilbo could see Tauriel blush and the small fond and embarrassed smile that curled her lips. _Smitten_ , he thought, _the both of them_. It was really quite adorable.

When they reached the master suite Bilbo unlocked the door and they slipped inside. The master suite and bathroom together would rival the size of a ballroom and Bilbo took it in with some awe. Sure, it was excessive, but it was a mansion, the entire concept of a mansion is excessive, and there was always a fairytale charm to having your own private quarters with a canopied king bed, your own fireplace and couch and armchair and _dear lord is that a marble bathtub._ It was practically a swimming pool.

Scattered across the floor Bilbo and Tauriel picked up more pages to the journal and sorted them into their rightful places. They know knew there had been three suicides in the house within a single month but the master, along with everyone else it seemed, believed the victims to have been possessed into hanging themselves. This was particularly morbid as one of the victims had been the master’s wife, and hanging from a sturdy chandelier above the edge of the large bed was a noose.

Tauriel and Bilbo fiddled around the fireplace looking for the switch to the secret passage but unfortunately the journal did not illuminate what the trigger was or how to activate it. Many screams from their separated party rang muffled in the air as they searched.

“This clock isn’t right,” remarked Bilbo excitedly as he examined more closely the mantle clock he had previously skipped over. It was quite like his anniversary clock that Gandalf had lifted at the start of all this crazy business.

“What’s not right about it?” Tauriel asked.

“It’s not ticking and the hands aren’t moving, only, I don’t see any way to wind it. I don’t think it’s meant to be a working clock.”

Bilbo opened the glass that encased the hands of the clock and fiddled with them gently. He felt a suspicious click as he moved the hands forward. “Does the journal specify any time at all? Especially involving the secret passages?”

Tauriel flipped through the pages, “Yes, he says he found the secret passage in the evening after supper, at half past six.”

Bilbo moved the hands of the clock to conform to this time and _click, click, click_ , they heard a sound in the bathroom. Upon investigation they found a large mirror had swung out from the wall revealing the entrance to a corridor as pitch black as winter nights. A particularly shrill scream pierced through the walls as they stepped into the secret passageway with their candles and the journal in hand.

Every once in a while they found a new page while adventuring through the passageways. Apparently the old master had done research on the history of the mansion and found that the eve of November, when the strange happenings and suicides began, was the anniversary of a violent and unsolved murder of a servant girl.

More screams echoed through the air but they were loud, piercing, and came from the room just behind the wall. Bilbo and Tauriel pressed their ears to listen.

“I can hear even Legolas scream,” giggled Tauriel, “he is usually so brave and calm.”

“Well, I think it was Gloin and his son Gimli that scared them, someone else maybe too, I can’t quite tell who else is in the room.”

“Gimli? Legolas really won’t be happy then,” she remarked giggling all the more.

“Why is that?”

“They are always in competition with one another,” she said with a sly smile.

The continued along the path and down a ladder so that they were now stalking the passages on the main level of the mansion. They heard hushed voices ahead of them and when they turned a corner their candles illuminated Dwalin and Thorin who were waiting beside a hidden door for the visitors to reach the adjacent room.

“What are you doing in here? How did you get in here?” Thorin asked incredulously.

“Through the master suite entrance,” supplied Tauriel.

“The master suite should be locked,” Thorin looked between the two with some annoyance.

“Well, we found the key,” answered Bilbo.

“How did you know there was a key?” Thorin asked and Dwalin snorted beside him.

“They have the journal,” he said, genuinely impressed.

Thorin looked to Dwalin abruptly then back to the two intruders and his gaze found the journal in Bilbo’s hand. His expression was unreadable in the dim light.

Dwalin signaled from them to be quiet and listen. Thorin then signaled for Bilbo and Tauriel to stay where they were as they prepared to ambush the party in the adjacent room. The door to the room slid open silently and the two were surprisingly stealthy in entering the room unnoticed before pouncing. Bilbo and Tauriel did not get the chance to see them scare the Elves (and Gandalf) but by their screams they must have been truly impressive.

Bilbo suspected the pair had chased the group into the next room and so Bilbo led Tauriel onwards down the secret path. They came across more pages until the journal was complete. Reading it in full they found that the master of the mansion had discovered that the servant girl had been murdered after being tortured in a secret and forgotten basement of the mansion, accessible only by the secret passageways, and that the remains of the girl had only been found because the murderer, the master of her time, disliked the way the rotten corpse fouled the air of the basement.

The two moved onwards towards the climax of the mystery of the journal. At the end of the passage they found a hatch with a broken lock. They opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder into the basement. The basement was not simply dark; it swallowed the light of their candles. They heard the hatch above them shut of its own accord. They heard their shallow breathing and Tauriel took Bilbo’s hand, her skin was clammy and he worried for the winter sprite. If she knew where he was, at least, then she wouldn’t break his nose out of fear.

“Maybe we should feel around?” suggested Bilbo into the darkness.

Tauriel was stiff beside him, paralyzed perhaps, but Bilbo coaxed her forward to move about the unknown space.

They heard the latch open then close again. Someone was on the ladder and was descending. Tauriel froze beside him but Bilbo grew eager for the resolution to the story.

“Hello?” he called out.

Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him forward. Tauriel screamed and reacted on instinct and lashed out at the figure handling Bilbo. He heard a satisfying _smack_ and a chocked yell. The hand removed itself from Bilbo and it stumbled back.

“I punch its head, I—I think I punched its head clean off!” Tauriel shouted to him nearly in hysterics, “I punched its head off, oh my god, I hear it still moving!”

“Yes, you very much _did!_ ” the head called back and Bilbo smacked his forehead.

“Thorin, for goodness’ sake, what are you doing down here?”

“Th-thorin? Is that Master Thorin?” asked Tauriel.

“There’s nothing down here,” called Thorin. There was clumsy trampling about which Bilbo guessed was his body fishing for its head. “No one’s ever followed the journal storyline through so we stopped bothering to set up the finale a long, long time ago.”

“Well, that is disappointing,” sighed Bilbo.

“I’m sorry Master Thorin, I didn’t know it was you,” babbled Tauriel calming herself down.

“I hope not,” he replied bitterly. There was a loud sound like his body had run into a wall and fallen backwards. His head groaned.

“Is there no way to put lights on?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, there is, clap four times.”

Bilbo did as bade and when the lights returned he saw how the story might have ended. Around the room were props of instruments of torture and a skeleton chained to the wall he could easily guess was the old master.

“So would we have been attacked by the ghost of the servant girl?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes,” answered Thorin, “the chains would have been enchanted to tie you to the wall on their own, and usually Dis plays the servant girl. She came up with the story, said she wanted to change how the people were saved by improve, but she never did get to act out the ending.”

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Bilbo. He was now picking up Thorin’s head to return to its body, “The journal was in a secret drawer in a cabinet off to the side. How would anyone know to look for it?”

“How did you know to look for it?” asked Thorin gruffly as he replaced his head.

“Because I know furniture quite well. I recognized it would have had those compartments and was curious.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Dis,” Thorin replied, “it was her concept and she insisted on the secrecy of the journal. I have no idea why she was so stubborn on the matter.”

Thorin led them out of the haunted house. Bilbo noticed some of the themes of the passing rooms included the webs of man-eating spiders, dungeons and water torture, monstrous wolves with human flesh dripping from its jaws, and goblins and ghouls that leapt out from the corners of the rooms. The rest of the visitors were outside and quite visibly shaken from their experience in the mansion. Legolas raised his eyebrows at seeing Tauriel returning with Bilbo, the two them now easy in each other’s company. The company of Erebor were laughing and guffawing loudly and with some maliciousness. Thorin and Dis stood in front of the crowd; Dis had an enchanted abacus in hand. Thorin gave a long-winded speech as closing words to the Marathon of Horror, which many of the Elves, Bilbo noticed, tuned out as they regained their usual merry disposure.

Dis then took up the stage, “This year’s Bogeyman, the winner of the most of screams, is…..” Dis actually made her own drumroll before announcing, “DORI!”

The company of Erebor was in an uproar of congratulations and arguments but was entirely good-natured as Dori bowed politely before them all. Bilbo was curious at how he had won, but considering his particularly gruesome appearance, he wasn’t surprised.

Dis regained the attention of the crowd and was even more theatrical than usual when she announced, “This year, we have the pleasure of announcing that, for the first time ever, a visitor has completed the Marathon of Horrors without screaming _once_. It is unprecedented in all the history of Erebor and Thorin (as well as myself) would like to award a new title to our remarkable gumshoe, who also for the very first time, found and completed the hidden journal challenge I designed centuries ago and had quite given up hope of having seen followed through. Bilbo Baggins, we named you _Lionheart!_ ”

Bilbo was stunned and embarrassed while fervent applause and celebration swept him into congratulations and handshakes and hugs even among the Elves. He felt disorientated by the time he unexpected wound up in front of Thorin who bowed to him stiffly but nobly.

“Thank you, but I’m not sure it counts, really, as you hadn’t set up the scares along the journal path and all,” he stuttered.

“You didn’t scream at us!” called Fili and Kili whooped in agreement.

“Or at Master Thorin,” Tauriel reminded him delicately and privately.

“It more than definitely counts, Bilbo,” said Dis who winked.

After some more congratulations and teasing they all began to file towards a large dining table that had been set up outside for dinner. As Bogeyman, Dori got the honour of sitting at the head seat of the table, with Thorin and Thrandruil sitting opposite on either of his side. Bilbo pulled Dis aside and asked her about the journal path through the haunted mansion.

“Why is it so secret? I mean, no one had even completed it before now! Why not make it more obvious?”

Dis smiled sweetly at Bilbo, “Bilbo, we have usually have the same visitors who go through that mansion every year. When I came up with the idea it was to give the visitors a chance to discover something new in a space they already knew so well. But for hundreds of years none of them strayed from the main path. After a few decades it just sort of… evolved into a matter of principle. If they weren’t curious or clever enough to find it on their own, they didn’t deserve to experience it. If we get the chance, I’ll happily act out the ending for you sometime.”

Bilbo thanked her for the offer. “Oh, and also,” said Dis, “my brother wants you to sit by him. We only have one head of table chair for this seating, or else we’d place you at the opposite end as a reward for being the first and only Lionheart, but Thorin suggested that placing you beside him and Dori would work as an acceptable substitute.”

“Oh goodness, there really is no need to reward me for not screaming, it wasn’t entirely fair, and I was quite looking forward to being scared, in all honesty,” he replied.

“You can tell me that but Thorin is another matter,” she rolled her eyes.

Bilbo looked over to Thorin at the table who was smirking in a rather undignified manner at Thrandruil and he guessed he had managed to make the Elvenking scream afterall. “Perhaps he’ll accept having me sit at his other side, not between him and Dori, but him and you? I would find that less awkward.”

“You truly are a brave soul, Bilbo Baggins, trying to reason with my brother even when he’s in a mood like that,” she replied, scoffing at Thorin’s absurdity.

And yet a part of Bilbo found it somehow endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, cana-puff put up some lovely fanart a little while ago on tumblr! Check it out! ♥ http://cana-puff.tumblr.com/post/107052512832/more-hallowbit-doodles-1-2-of-gimli-getting
> 
> When Bilbo talks about interactive theatre experience I was thinking of Sleep No More, which is a wicked Macbeth adaptation in New York which is pretty much indescribable. I honestly can't even find a link that gives a fraction of the idea of what Sleep No More is like as an experience. Try googling it, it's mind boggling.
> 
> *** TAKING DANSE MACABRE COSTUME SUGGESTIONS: http://batherik.tumblr.com/post/108901386908/hallowbit-danse-macabre-outfits


	18. Marathon Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important interlude between the Marathon of Horrors and the Danse Macabre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! Managed to get a short chapter turned out before the end of semester. The next chapter will be pretty damn long, though, so I wouldn't expect it until probably late April or May. Hey! This fic is almost reaching it's one year anniversary! I guess it's a bit sad how long it's taking me to write this, actually.

Bilbo giggled with delight as he took in the dishes set about the table. They were all novelty horror platters with devilled egg eyeballs, meat cut and served like human limbs with blood-red cranberry sauces, sausage fingers with nails made from almonds,  gelatin brains, melons and vegetables delicately carved into skulls and bones, and some very sinister looking soups that were poured out of bottles labeled with poison warnings. Bilbo served himself with enthusiasm while many of the Elves grimaced at the foods that were a combination realistic and corny. From across the table Bilbo caught Tauriel’s eye who was hesitating over her plate but his enthusiasm emboldened her to take the first bites of the Elven company. After chewing a moment she smiled at the taste and Bilbo winked at her.

“I knew you took to your food with relish but you are downright giddy,” teased Dis from beside him.

“I guess being in Erebor so long has really gotten me into the Halloween spirit. And goodness, it’s only the 27th, isn’t it?” he replied.

“I thought you would be counting the days. You were so eager to go back home, after all,” commented Thorin gruffly beside him.

“Well, it’s not as if I came here on vacation and decided I didn’t like the locale,” teased Bilbo, “I quite like it, actually.”

Thorin looked away, unsuccessfully trying to hide his flustering.

From across the table Thrandruil’s expression remained neutral but attention was caught in his eyes. “And what was your first impression of Erebor, if I may ask?”

“Empty, my lord. Terribly empty.”

Around him everyone looked taken aback.

“And, um, mister Bilbo, what do you mean by that?” asked Dori.

“Well it took me awfully long time to find anyone. Bofur was the first person I talked to and that was only after my fright with Thorin’s body riding his great horse. A whole castle and I could barely find a soul!” he explained. “I don’t think that impression has changed much, really,” continued Bilbo after a pause, “the people here fill a lot of space with their, uh, exuberance, but it’s still an awfully big realm for awfully few people.”

“That would be the same for all cursed realms, master Baggins,” replied Thrandruil before taking a generous drink from his blood-like wine.

“You don’t have to call him your lord,” Thorin whispered into his ear. Bilbo just rolled his eyes at him.

As they tuck into the meal in more earnest Bilbo easily out-ate the rest of party by double. His vigour encouraged the Elves to at least try the food but they still ate mostly the carved melons and vegetables. Whenever Bilbo’s plate started to look bare Thorin would push some of his own food over for him to eat. Bilbo would smile in thanks but nobody would comment. Dis did, however, give some very pointed looks.

Aside from eating, Bilbo spent most of the meal watching Tauriel and Kili. Kili had seated himself on Tauriel’s opposite and his smile was brighter than sunflowers. They were awfully cute, he thought, and wondered if they would dance together much during the Danse Macabre or if they would be too shy. Well, Tauriel was shy, not so much Kili, but he seemed fidgety about talking with Tauriel so close to his family. He didn’t blame to poor boy; flirting in front of your mother was awkward enough without your kingdoms being in a sort of feud.

After the main platters had been finished Bombur brought out fabulously decorated cupcakes with confectionary spiders, ghosts, and tombstones on top. Bilbo ate at least five, but with Thorin trying to discreetly pass him more each time he finished one he quickly lost count.

“Thorin, if you keep giving me food, I’ll eat myself to death,” he joked when he tried to slide another towards him.

Thorin blanched. “Die? You’ll die? Do you have a condition?”

“Only an oversized appetite, but really, I appreciate it,” he tried to soothe.

“Do you usually overeat?” he asked quietly and grimly.

“Thorin, I’m sorry, what are you asking me exactly? If I’m overweight?”

“Being overweight can lead to an early death, can’t it?”

“Human health is much more complicated than _that_ , Thorin,” he replied and shook his head at the ridiculous king.

“What is your health? When did you last see a doctor before coming here?”

“I’m not about to die at this table, Thorin.”

“Bilbo—“

He sighed and tugged Thorin’s sleeve to leave the table with him. The conversation had turned much too serious and Dis, Dori, Thrandruil and all of his near party at been looking between the two of them with far too much awkwardness. He led Thorin behind a nearby corner of the haunted mansion out of earshot.

“What are you doing?” he asked Thorin exasperated.

“I’m concerned for you,” he replied indignantly.

“Because I eat so much? Why did you keep giving me food, then?”

“I wasn’t thinking of your health. It’s a topic I’ve long forgotten to be relevant to the people around me.”

“Well I’ve been eating for quite a few recent years and I promise not every meal is a threat on my life.”

Thorin looked appropriately chastised but mumbled, “I’m only concerned.”

“I could die any day just from using an appliance wrong. Accidents aren’t avoidable,” Bilbo argued.

“I know. That’s why I’m concerned. Dis lost her husband to an accident,” Thorin averted his gaze now, “I will never forget the grief that caused her. And how I couldn’t save her.”

The moment between them was thick with old tears.

“That’s not your fault. Please, you need to know that. Dis did tell me about this,” he told Thorin carefully.

“She’s my sister, I should have been able to bring her back,” he told him with remarkable openness: an openness that touched Bilbo.

“And you should have stopped the rebellion. And you should have stopped your brother from dying to save you all. Right?”

Thorin looked back at him. His eyes were uncertain, torn between sadness and confusion.

Bilbo sighed and put his hand on Thorin’s arm.

“I said I’d grieve for you. I have no idea why I said that in the first place, but I don’t regret it. You’re dead, Thorin, and just because you were denied rest doesn’t mean you must also be denied peace. Let me worry about my own life and death, it’s beyond either of us anyhow.”

“That’s impossible. How can I not worry for you?”

“Why must you? Aren’t I leaving in a few days’ time? In the very least I wouldn’t see you again for another year.”

“And that worries me, too.”

“Why?” Bilbo whispered. He knew why but he wanted to hear Thorin say it. He moved his hand from Thorin’s hand and entwined his fingers with those of Thorin.

Thorin’s face flushed, his body was rigid save for his hand. Against Bilbo’s fingers he was as pliable like warmed wax. Bilbo stroked his thumb against his hand and something seemed to break inside Thorin.

“Because I love you,” he said in a rush.

Bilbo was momentarily surprised. He wasn’t expecting a confession as strong as _I love you_ and his body felt like a candle with a wick against his chest. He brought their hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of Thorin’s hand.

“This is all rather sudden,” teased Bilbo.

“No,” replied Thorin sternly, “it’s been hundreds of years for me. I’ve tossed an apple peel over my shoulder in secret for centuries just to look at the B it formed. I’ve made spell bags to dream of you and I’ve seen you in mirrors at the turn of midnight. This place is full of magic.”

“You knew I was coming?” Bilbo spluttered in shock.

“I had no idea when you were coming,” he answered, “only that you would.”

Bilbo looked at him in wonder while Thorin agitated in embarrassment.

“You weren’t particularly polite when I first arrived,” said Bilbo finally.

“Well, to be fair, I had started yelling at you before I saw your face,” he answered. “Now that I think about it that just makes me sound even worse.”

Bilbo’s laugh was honest and clear, “Well, I think I liked you even while you were yelling at me. I can’t say I love you but you do have quite a head start on me.”

Thorin drew Bilbo in a deep hug. “I won’t let you die yet, not so soon. Not when I finally met you.”

“Then you better stop putting so much food on my plate.”

“You’re very cute when you eat, though.”


	19. Danse Macabre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I have a great song recommendation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKWd7JU0lmU !!

Bilbo didn’t see Thorin again that day after the meal. He had squeezed Thorin’s hand occasionally under the table while they finished eating, pressing against each knuckle and between each finger. But as soon as the table was cleared Bilbo was swept up by the Elves insisting he join them for the evening in a far off sitting room that had been set up for them near the Elven guestrooms. It was spacious but lacked the mismatch of period furniture that was so common in much of the rest of the castle. Asides from the bare medieval tables, chairs, and the blistering fireplace there were decorative cobwebs and bowls of candy and gummies laid out.

Tauriel had been quick to introduce Bilbo to Legolas, who he learned was in a strange blend of rivalry and friendship with Gimli. For most of the evening, however, the Elves talked to Bilbo about their own realm, a land of eternal winter where their halls were decorated with sparkling ice, streamers of pine needles and hardy berries of mistletoe and holly, and thick fur rugs laid out on pure white marble floors. It all sounded very lovely and romantic to Bilbo, who could only offer a cozy but underwhelming description of his own quaint town in the world of the living.

Bilbo woke up the next morning to knocking on his door, and before he could even get out of bed, Kili and Fili had invited themselves in to serve Bilbo breakfast in bed.

“Figured it would be better for you to eat before coming down, no one else needs breakfast, after all,” winked Fili.

“Yeah, oh, and we had to make sure you didn’t come down dressed for the Danse Macabre so soon, too!” added Kili.

“I know better than that, the ball isn’t until closer to the evening, right?” Bilbo mumbled between mouthfuls of runny eggs.

“Right!” answered Fili, “This morning, most of us are just adding the final touches to the ballroom or our masquerade costumes, the Elves included. Speaking of which, what’s your costume, Bilbo?”

Bilbo scoffed and looked between the two eager boys, “Is this why you brought me breakfast? To pry the secret costume out of me with perfectly cooked eggs and hash browns? You could have at least added some of those delicious grilled tomatoes.”

“We’ll tell you our costumes!” offered Kili.

Bilbo snorted, “No thanks, Kili, I’m more patient than you lot. I’ll be seeing you in costume in a few hours anyhow.” When Kili grumbled Bilbo added, “I thought you would be more curious as to what Tauriel is wearing. You know, she did tell me.”

The effect was immediate. Kili’s eyes widened, his eyes and neck went red, and he stuttered a bit of nonsense. Then Kili grew more serious than Bilbo had ever seen him and asked, “Are you going to tell me or tease me, Bilbo?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “Tease, I think. I might not be fond of certain surprises, such as being trapped in a land of undead, but masquerade costumes I much better like the idea of being kept secret.”

Kili suddenly went on his knees and held his hands up pleading, “Bilbo, I will do anything. I swear it.” Fili only covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“I don’t think so, Kili. I’m much too excited to see your face when you see it.”

“Is it that good?” whispered Kili.

“Yes,” nodded Bilbo solemnly.

Fili rolled his eyes and pulled his brother back to his feet. “Alright, enough of that. Bilbo, you probably don’t know where the ballroom is, right? We can escort you there if you want.”

“That’s very kind of you, boys,” Bilbo nodded, “when should I meet you?”

“Meet us on the first floor at half-past four, just below the main stairs. The ballroom is where the Great Hall used to be, but it was renovated long, long ago,” Fili replied.

The brothers gathered Bilbo’s finished plates and left him to get ready. He took a shower in the bathroom and better appreciated the work of plumbing now that he knew it was the work of Kili and Fili’s father. A beautiful comb and brush had been left for him to use on one of his first nights, as well as a toothbrush, although Bilbo had no idea who thought to get a toothbrush or how old it was. It seemed modern enough despite not being electric. He had already slept in late, so he only needed to pass a few hours before getting dressed. Fortunately there had been some antique books left out on a table for him to peruse, but since he was a historian at heart, Bilbo examined and mentally catalogued them rather than actually read through the old yellowed pages. Putting on his spider outfit proved to be a much more complicated ordeal than when Dis had done it magically. The fake arms that hugged his middle needed to be unattached then re-attached, which took quite a long time for poor Bilbo to sort out. In the end, Bilbo got tired of pacing around his room in costume to kill time and decided to go down a little early.

On the first floor was already a small crowd of mostly the Elves masked and in costume. Bilbo struggled to recognize any of the acquaintances he had met in the sitting room last night and meandered around the outside of the group uncertain for a few paces. A wave in the crowd caught his eye and Legolas strode over to him confidently. He was split right down the middle, half of him quite regular and the other appeared charred and burnt. When Legolas reached him he posed himself to best show off the costume.

“Well met, friend. And look! I’m Two-Face! Like the Batman comics! Do you read them?” he asked with zeal.

“Well, no,” answered Bilbo surprised, “I haven’t read them, but I certainly know of them. I didn’t think you would have read them, though, you are all rather ancient.”

Legolas waved that off, “Oh, no, I’ve always spent my Yule window in the living world gathering things to read. It’s been nearly a century since I bought my first comic, I rather like them, but it’s difficult to keep up when I can only purchase a stack annually. It’s gotten easier since they began selling compiled volumes, though! Two-Face was the most appropriate character I could think of for this holiday. I like your outfit!”

Legolas looked sheepish and leaned in close before whispering, “It reminds me of Doctor Octopus. Is that okay to say? Do you know him, too? He’s from the Amazing Spiderman.”

Bilbo laughed companionably, “Yes, I know of him too, and I see how they are similar. You really are very fond of comics, I would never have guessed.”

“I have no one with whom to talk about comics, however,” sighed Legolas, “Tauriel has borrowed some before but they never interest her much. I think she’s very uncomfortable about the world of the living. I think you’re the first living person I’ve seen her talk to in all our years.”

Bilbo considered this soberly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she about?”

“No,” he answered, “she’s still getting ready. I think she will be late, she’s very nervous.”

“I can imagine,” Bilbo hummed.

“Bilbo!” called Fili and Kili from within the crowd. They practically elbowed some of the guests out of the way to make it over to him. Bilbo gave them the most scornful scowl he could muster.

“Oh, don’t look at us like that,” said Fili, “The Danse Macabre is about to start and you’re the guest of honour so we need you to lead the procession.”

“Guest of--? Oh my word, I actually forgot about that. Truly that’s not _really_ necessary?” he stuttered.

“We insist,” declared Kili. The two brothers linked arms with him.

“I’m sorry Legolas, we’ll talk more later,” apologized Bilbo. Legolas gave a polite nod of the head.

“Legolas? Oh, wow, didn’t notice that was you. Your costume is actually rather good,” remarked Fili.

“Thank you,” Legolas replied, genuinely pleased, “I like yours as well, although I don’t recognize them.”

“I’m bigfoot,” answered Fili, who was dressed in even more brown and silver furs than usual, “and he’s the chupacabra.”

“You mean I’m your chupaca _bro_ ,” winked Kili. His outfit was black and leathery with long, slender spines. Over the eyeholes in his mask was a red filter and Kili bared his vampire fangs to complete the blood-sucker effect.

“Modern monster myths,” Bilbo clarified upon seeing Legolas’ confused expression. The two brothers waved Legolas farewell and led Bilbo off in a direction he had never yet been.

“You know, Legolas was a right git when we first met him,” remarked Fili idly, “didn’t care for him at all. God, the first time he screamed in the Marathon of Horrors, he sulked something awful. Thought it was beneath him I guess. But he’s gotten nicer these last few years, more fun, too.”

“Yeah, a few years back, he even complimented me on being able to get him to scream,” said Kili in wonder, “still no idea what made the princeling change.”

“Princeling? Are you not also a princeling, Kili?” quipped Bilbo.

“No way, a princeling is a prince who’s been pampered, and Thorin’s never given me an ounce of privilege in my life. Or undeath. Whatever!”

“By the way, Bilbo, _love_ your outfit. Spiders suit you well for some reason,” commented Fili.

“Yeah! You’re adorable!” Kili added.

“Adorable?!” squeaked Bilbo, “Pardon you! I am not!”

“Aw, Bilbo,” sighed Fili, “I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ve been adorable for as long as I’ve known you.”

If Bilbo’s hands were free he would have flicked his nose. But as he was pinned between the two brothers, he settled instead for another scowl, “I don’t think you’re quite right, Kili. You two most certainly have been pampered. I can’t think of anyone else who would tease me so shamelessly.”

“Can’t you?” replied Kili with actual surprise.

“Certainly not. I’m well respected in my town. I was in university, too,” he sniffed.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Fili grievously.

Soon enough they reached the doors to the ballroom and the brothers unpinned Bilbo from between them. Gathering directly outside these doors were the company of Erebor, but as they were lining up to enter, Bilbo did not have a chance to greet any of them. Soon the Elves joined them in the rear, too, except for Thrandruil and Legolas who had stepped forward. Thrandruil was dressed in well pressed red merino wool with silk lapels and cuffs and vinyl detailing. His mask was very similar and had real horns attached. Bilbo bit his tongue imagining what Thorin would say about Thrandruil wearing a devil costume. The man nodded and gave a shallow bow to Bilbo which flustered him greatly. Before Bilbo could try and return the greeting, however, a sturdy hand landed on his shoulder. Thorin had stepped up beside him.

Thorin was wearing a life-like skull mask with black makeup around his eyes and in vertical lines across his mouth.  His hair was pulled back in a heavily braided ponytail and the suit he was wearing was so well tailored he looked slimmer than usual. It was pinstriped with long tails on the jacket. Only the lack of a waistcoat and the presence of a bowtie kept him from looking Victorian, and the end result was more modern than Bilbo had been accustomed to considering him. His bowtie, he noticed, was a small bat.

“Welcome, guests, to the Danse Macabre. In particular we welcome Bilbo, our guest of honour. Despite this night being a centuries-long tradition of our people, tonight is the first time the dance of death will have a living dancer,” Thorin announced with a quick smile down Bilbo, “which makes it more whole and powerful. That is because the Danse Macabre is a momento mori, a reminder that death is universal and an equalizer of station. As such, royalty will dance with peasantry, and all glories and shames of earthly life will be forgotten as vanities. Death is a fate that cannot be rewritten, no matter the gold or the rags that would decorate the coffin. And we are the truest testament to that. Despite our curses it is important to remember that we are the dead, foremost. In this spirit, I invite he who was the lowest of my kingdom in life to join me in walking the guest of honour first through these doors.”

Thorin moved his hand from Bilbo’s shoulder and linked his arm with him instead. Someone stepped forward to link with him on his other side and the doors to the ballroom opened. His other chaperone was dressed in grey and had a mask with great bulging black eyes, but Bilbo could still see bits of straw pocking out from the seams. Bofur was dressed as an alien, and together the three of them walked through the doors of the ballroom, and Bilbo was speechless.

On the walls of the ballroom were mirrors cracked, grungy, or slightly warped. Black streamers came down from skeletal chandeliers throughout the room and against one long wall were old wooden tables with wood worn down a texture like crocodile skin. On the tables were bowls filled with candy, fountains with punch that looked like blood, and center pieces with skulls, bones, and cobwebs. From the roof hung bats that flew from perch to perch and against the farthest narrow wall were mock tombstones of every person present save for Bilbo and Gandalf. Just behind the tombstones was a stage on which skeletons were bewitched to play as a live band. As Bilbo and his two escorts stepped onto the bare stone floor the skeletons picked up their instruments and the violinists drew out the first notes.

When they reached the center of the room both Thorin and Bofur bowed to Bilbo and took some steps from his side to greet the others who were now filling into the ballroom in no particular order. Bilbo felt a hand pull him off towards some of the chairs at the wall opposite the food tables. Dis was wearing a mask with huge glowing red orb-eyes and had a beautiful pair of delicate and slightly furry black wings. She had furry antennae too, and her long hair was braided into a complex bun.

“Good to see you again, Bilbo, your costume looks just as handsome on you as it did before.”

“Yes, good to see you too, Dis! What are you, if I may ask?”

“Mothman,” she smiled, “my sons and I did a cryptid theme this year. You’d think they’d be too old for coordinating with their momma by now, but no, those boys are too sweet.”

“Yes, very sweet, but I can think a good many other words to describe them as well,” Bilbo replied.

Dis laughed, “I think I can guess a few of them. But first, I have a question for you.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“What on earth did you talk about with Thorin yesterday,” asked Dis while shaking her head in awe, “he was acting funny all evening. Flustered the whole time, smiling, trying to hide said smiling and failing, rocking on his feet, and he would not stop playing with his fingers. And don’t think I didn’t notice you two holding hands at the dinner!”

Bilbo hoped his mask was covering most of his blush, “Well, uh, he confessed a few things to me.”

“He finally said he was over the moon about you, eh?” said Dis triumphantly, “I thought it would take him even longer, to be honest.  He wouldn’t even talk to me on the subject.”

“He, um, well he said loved me,” Bilbo admitted sheepishly, “he also said he was waiting for me.”

“He was waiting for you to make the first move? What a dolt,” Dis snorted.

“No, I mean, waiting for me to come here. To Erebor. He was expecting me,” Bilbo clarified.

“Pardon, what was that?” Dis said with eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

“He said he had seen me in his dreams. Or, well, he used magic to see me? I’m not quite sure,” Bilbo fumbled in explanation.

Dis smacked her hand against her head, “The dream divination spell I taught him centuries ago,” she murmured in amazement, “I had no idea what that was about, you can use it for anything. You mostly put a collection of herbs in a bag along with a question and sleep on it. The great clot used it for a question about love.”

“Yes, and something about mirrors and the apple peelings. Well, it sounded like he had been in love with me for quite a while. No idea what those dreams must have been like for that to happen.”

“Those dreams can be rather vivid if you include some crystals or the like,” she added, “so you accepted him then?”

“Well, I do rather like him,” Bilbo admitted, “I can’t say I _love_ him, it’s still very soon for me at least. And, well, I don’t have a great track record with romance. My relationships haven’t lasted very long in the past, but… it feels different with Thorin. I mean, I haven’t known him very long, but I can tell that I could fall in love with him. It’s like an acorn that just needs to be nurtured; all the potential is there for a sturdy oak. Ugh, sorry, that was less corny in my head.”

Dis nodded wisely, “I understand. And I’m very happy for the both of you. Of course, I’d be even happier if you would stay past Halloween, I can’t imagine how much of a pain my brother will be this next year while he waits for October to return so he can see you again.”

Bilbo fiddled with one of his costume’s fake arms, “I would like that, too. Maybe I can set some affairs in order on Halloween, but it’s just, it’s an awfully long time to be away from home with awfully little notice. I don’t know if I can be gone a whole year like that.”

“Your judgment is best on this matter,” Dis sighed, “if it doesn’t work this year then perhaps with more notice you can set things straight to stay with us for the next. I do have my experience in this kind of arrangement,” she smiled wistfully.

“Yes, you do,” Bilbo returned warmly.

The music from the band on the far end picked up suddenly and the first dance began.

“You should watch, for the first one,” said Dis. She patted him on the knee before getting up and joining the swelling crowd on the dance floor. Gandalf took a seat beside Bilbo while everyone else in the room took partners.

“Are you not dead, then?” asked Bilbo to Gandalf.

“No, my dear fellow, I am not,” he answered. He was wearing all white instead of his usual grey but had no mask on unlike everyone else.

“What are you, then? Because you’re certainly no human like me,” Bilbo asked with as much politeness as he could muster for such a blunt question.

“I am alive, Bilbo Baggins, and I can die like you. But not so easily, and with no limit of time, such as yourself,” he explained with little clarity.

“But Thorin said I was the first living dancer…”

“Indeed. I don’t dance, not at the Danse Macabre at any rate.”

The dead on the dance floor began to turn and move along with the music set by the enchanted band. He noticed Thorin dancing with his sister, and Fili dancing with Bofur, and Kili with someone he couldn’t identify dressed as the killer from Scream. He tried to identify some of the other dancers but didn’t have much luck from his distance.

 As the music sped up and the dancers seemed to rotate faster and faster around the floor Bilbo was no longer reminded of the childhood Halloween dances he had attended in school. At some unidentifiable point there was a shift in his perspective. As the dance reached its climax Bilbo truly realized he was not watching a dance of the living; exposed bones clattered at the joints, bodies seem to glide rather than step and they never sweat, breathed, or got tired despite the length of the dance. The light on their skins took on an eerie reflection and Bilbo felt like he was back on the carousel of the Candy Carnival. Except rather than riding it he was standing at the center and felt pulled into the momentum of the rotation. Gandalf actually placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder to keep him steady in his chair until the dance ended.

Bilbo was dizzy and tied to regain his proper composure when Fili, Bofur, Kili, and his dance partner came up to him.

“You feeling alright, Bilbo?” Fili asked.

“Yes, yes, thank you, just a little lightheaded at the moment.”

“For a living person, watching the Danse Macabre for the first time is quite a turning experience,” supplied Gandalf.

“Really?” asked Bofur in wonder, “I wouldn’t have thought it any different, but I suppose that makes sense.”

“Do you need something to drink?” asked a familiar voice in the Scream costume.

“Oh! Ori, I didn’t realize that was you in there!” Bilbo exclaimed.

Ori pulled up the mask sheepishly, “I’m doing a horror movie murderer theme with a few of the others. Dori is Michael… uh, Michael something, from the Halloween series.”

“Michael Meyers,” Fili supplied.

“Right, Michael Meyers. Dwalin is Leatherface, the one with the chainsaw,” Ori continued.

“I think more than a few of them have chainsaws, lad,” Bofur teased.

Ori ignored him, “Who did Gloin say he was again? Oh, right, he’s Jason. Gimli was going to be Freddy Krueger but he changed his mind partway through. He still looks good, though.”

“Oh, I do, eh?” laughed Gimli as he joined them. “Your costume suits you, Bilbo, though it could have been a wee bit scarier. You would hardly even startle any of these Elves like that.”

Gimli seemed to have started on the Freddy Krueger makeup but only applied it to half his face. Half of his clothes, too, were burnt and ragged looking, while the other half were usual. “I went for a half mutilated vibe, works well for Dori on a regular day,” Gimli explained.

Kili, Fili, and Bilbo all exchanged glances. “Um, Gimli, you didn’t coordinate that with Legolas, did you?” asked Fili with trepidation.

“What? No, of course not! Why would I!” Gimli responded.

“Um, well, because he’s wearing nearly the exact same thing,” Kili answered with an exasperated grin.

Gimli swore harshly under his breathe and immediately went back into the crowd, presumably to look for Legolas. There was an edge of violence to his angry strut.

“He’s even mangled on the opposite side than Legolas,” Fili added incredulously, “my God, I think they’re two halves to one whole. Oh, this won’t end well.” He anxiously set off to follow Gimli through the crowd.

“I like your alien costume, Bofur, I didn’t get the chance to say so beforehand,” said Bilbo, trying to distract from the unfolding drama.

“Oh, thank you, love your spider get up. That’s Dis’ work right? She’s got an eye for costumes, I’ll tell you. That’s a gal who should be standing on a theatre stage. If you see Bombur or Bifur about, we’re a theme too. All of us aliens!” he declared proudly.

“I’m going to steal a private word with Bilbo,” said Kili as he hooked arms with him once more and led him off to the side.

“ _Bilbo_ ,” he whispered urgently, “I don’t see Tauriel. I can’t recognize her, what is it that she’s dressed as?”

“You know Kili, I don’t think I can see her about. Legolas said she might be a bit late, something about her being nervous.”

“Oh, yes, nervous,” said Kili wringing his hands, “You’ll tell me if you see her arrive, right?”

“Of course, Kili,” he replied, patting his arm reassuringly, “I think you two are very cute together.”

“Cute?!” exclaimed Kili, going red around the ears, “Is that revenge for calling you adorable?”

“Oh, no, this is revenge,” said Bilbo as he flicked Kili in the nose.

“Oi, hey, ok! No more calling you adorable, got it. Let me know if you see Tauriel, alright?”

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Bilbo assured.

The music from across the ballroom picked up again, preparing for the next dance.

“Dance this one with me,” said Kili taking Bilbo by the hand.

Before Bilbo could agree or refuse Kili had dragged him into the circle of dancers on the dance floor and was leading him along the simple steps of the waltz. It was a very loose and informal kind of dance, very forgiving to missed or improvised steps and allowed for some freeform as Bilbo took in the swirling dancers around him. Bilbo and Kili had worked out a comfortable twist on the waltz before the music began to change, immediately drifting into the next dance, and Fili tapped his brother’s shoulder and took over lead. Fili improvised less in his dancing, he was more exact and precise in his movements, and Bilbo took the opportunity with his new partner to learn the steps more accurately.

“Are Gimli and Legolas going to have to duel for the right to their costume?” Bilbo asked.

“No, I managed to defuse Gimli somewhat before he found Legolas. I think they might even be dancing, truth be told. They get on a lot better than they let others see.”

Once again the music began to shift into the next dance and this time Bofur took over. Bilbo took lead this time, Bofur apparently having no idea or care what the steps to the dance even were, and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous jigs he kept intermitting into the waltz. Before the dance was up Bilbo thanked Bofur and went off to get punch before a new partner had the chance to step in. The macabre dancers of the Danse Macabre might have been tireless but poor Bilbo already had a stitch in his side and was feeling a tad laboured in his breathing.

The blood-red punch was mostly carbonized cranberry juice although there was some red wine in it as well. Bilbo also helped himself to some novelty gummies while he watched the dancers. Someone in a long-beaked mask sat beside him.

“Not too bad a dance, eh? Though it’s better without the bloody Elves around,” he murmured as he took off his mask. Oin had been wearing a plague doctor mask and took some deep appreciative breaths when he finally got it away from his mouth. It wasn’t the stifled breathing that had bothered him, as Oin didn’t need to breathe, but he had packed the beak of the mask with smelling and medicinal herbs to be authentic.

“Well, I wouldn’t know if the Elves make it worse or better,” Bilbo gave a polite smile. Oin grunted in reply and Bilbo wasn’t sure he actually heard his response. Nori took another seat beside Bilbo with a very large goblet of punch and quite a deep bowl of candies.

“And what are you dressed as, then?” Bilbo asked.

“I’m a grave robber,” Nori said and gave a slap to the sacks of gold and jewelry on his belt.

After a couple more songs the band took another break and the crowd of dancers moved over to the refreshment tables. Bilbo went back over to the other side of the room to escape the crowd, finding Kili, Dis, and Dwalin deep in conversation.

Bilbo tapped Kili on the shoulder, “Over there, at the door.”

Sneaking into the dance a bit late was Tauriel. She really did look nervous and she fidgeted with her dress and took the nearest seat available, avoiding eye contact. “She truly is bit shy,” Bilbo remarked. But when he looked over to Kili he was gaping and blushing furiously.

“She’s beautiful,” Kili whispered reverently, and he stepped off determinedly towards Tauriel.

She was wearing a wedding gown only slightly torn with a worn veil and her hair curled around her back. Her white mask had lace on it and translucent ribbons caught the light in a silvery fashion. She had makeup paint on her of some exposed bone and rotting wounds, not enough to compete with the usual grotesqueness of Erebor.

“A corpse bride,” declared Bilbo softly and nodded to Dis who caught his eye.

“I was a corpse bride once,” she commented.

Bilbo was about to ask her how long ago that was before he caught her double meaning, but she only smiled, satisfied with her own wit.

They watched Kili talk with Tauriel a little. He was more serious than Bilbo had seen him in all his time in Erebor, but he was still open and friendly, as well as patient and gentle as he coaxed her out of her shyness and led her towards the punch at the other side of the room.

“She’s good for him,” Dis commented, “makes him act more grown up. It’s good to see him being mature.”

“You sound so surprised,” Bilbo replied, “most of the time it’s someone outside of your usual circle who makes you mature. Kili is the baby of the family here, and there’s a lot of pressure for a boy to conform to the expectations others already have of him. If you keep thinking of him as a baby then he’ll keep acting like one, even if it’s all unintentional. Tauriel is someone without those expectations. He’s free to make his own impressions to her.”

“That’s very wise, and very true,” Dis conceded.

Dwalin only snorted in derision, “Not like those expectations weren’t hard earned by the lad. Gimli was never like that before Fili and him came along.”

The band once again began to pick up the music to start up another dance.

“Will you be taking this dance?” asked Dis.

“Maybe, if you’ll be my partner, but I don’t have the same stamina as the rest of the dancers here, not sure how long I can dance for.”

“Well, I’ll take what dances I can, then,” said Dis with a wink.

Dis knew the steps better than either of her sons and she gave Bilbo plenty of time to learn them before she began to exaggerate her movements and interpret the dance in a more modern fashion. She was such a good and dynamic teacher that Bilbo led her for the later part of the dance and even guided her in some of his own improvisations. Dis was delighted by this, and near the end of the dance they took turns swapping steps and movements. They were such good dance partners that Bilbo would have happily spent the rest of the night dancing with her.

Many of the other Dwarves took turn tapping shoulders to dance with Bilbo, each practiced, awkward, clever, or clunky in their own way. He never danced with any of them for too long after Dis, they all seemed eager to get a couple minutes with their guest of honour. He was practically dragged along the floor by Dwalin, and Nori’s footwork was dizzyingly fast, Dori fumbled a few times but kept his timing, Bombur’s dance style involved lots of hopping, Ori liked to spin, Gloin was far gone into the punch and spirit of the masquerade, and Bifur led Bilbo through many small and shy steps.

By the end he all but collapsed at a small table off to the side and nursed some punch until he fell into a very light sleep. The dancers travelled into his dreams and for a while he was watching a parade of skeletons jangle and spin. Until someone took a seat beside him and woke him up. Bilbo gave Thorin a drowsy smile.

“I don’t think this punch is doing me much good for keeping me dancing.”

“Indeed, it looks like it’s wearing you out even faster. Am I going to be able to ask you for a dance?”

“Oh, I hope so, just give me a bit of time to recover.”

They watched the whirlwind of dancers for a while and Bilbo tried to be energized by the exertion of their movements.

“Your costume was Dis’ idea, was it not?”

“Hmm, yes it was,” Bilbo answered. He looked over to Thorin who had a strange look in his eyes, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” Thorin answered too quickly and looked away. Bilbo’s brow creased but he didn’t push him.

His eyes found Kili and Tauriel dancing. Tauriel had been successfully drawn out of her nervousness and was smiling and laughing while Kili led her through the steps. Thorin’s fingers wrapped around Bilbo’s under the table and he squeezed his hand encouragingly.

“Your costume is very endearing,” Thorin admitted.

“Please don’t call me adorable. I already had to flick Kili in the nose for it, and next time I see Fili, I’m going to do the same to him, as well.”

Thorin laughed and it was a lovely sound, “Adorable? No, you can be cute, but you’re not a child. You’re a stunning and handsome man, if I had breath, I’m sure I lost it when I first saw you.”

Bilbo started and spluttered a little, “Nonsense! If I remember right, you were too busy insulting me to notice such a thing as how I looked. And _stunning_ and _handsome_ , goodness, no need to flatter me like that.”

“It is not flattery, it’s truth,” Thorin argued with amusement, “And I may have been short of patience but I don’t remember insulting you. I had been left out in the dirt for a couple weeks, I will hardly be held accountable for being short tempered considering that.”

“ _Weeks?_ You were left out there for _weeks_? No one told me that, in fact I’m certain Dis said _days_ ,” Bilbo shook his head, “and you said my hands were soft and I was carrying your head as if I was caressing it, I’ll remind you.”

“They are soft. Although, I’ll admit, the caressing was probably my imagination.”

“Probably?” Bilbo scoffed.

“Wishful thinking,” Thorin said with a wistful and absurdly handsome smile. How does a man even look so adoring and handsome with a mask and makeup all around his eyes? _Absurd_.

Bilbo gave him a playful jab to his side, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Thorin asked with a huff of laughter.

“Making my heart melt. It’s hardly considerate; it’s already too weak from all this dancing.”

Thorin looked away with a small smile and stroked his thumb over Bilbo’s hand.

The band wound down from their current set of dances and the dancers meandered off the floor for refreshments or to sit.

“Who have you been dancing with?” Bilbo asked, “I saw you with Dis in the first dance but that’s it.”

“Just about everyone, but never for very long. It’s more a formality, the king dancing with peasantry, that’s the whole point of the Danse Macabre.”

“Is Thrandruil abiding by that as well?”

Thorin scoffed, “I’ll say this much, at least he had the decency to show up dressed as the Devil.”

“Who is your favourite dance partner of the night, then?”

“Well, I’m hoping it will be you,” said Thorin, “but so far it has been Balin. I know,” Thorin held up his hands at Bilbo’s expression, “not a conventional answer, but Balin is the one who taught me to dance, before I even died. It’s nostalgic in the best of ways.”

“Where is he, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen him all night.”

Thorin pointed him out by Dwalin and Nori, “He’s dressed as a Pierrot clown.”

“I think that’s the scariest costume I’ve seen all night,” Bilbo remarked, “what is it about clowns?”

Thorin grumbled, “They scare even me to be honest.”

Bilbo hummed and swiped from candy from Thorin’s small plate. Bilbo laid his head against the other’s shoulder, “Are you still dreadfully upset the Elves are here?”

“I prefer the Danse without them, this is much too busy, and their presence makes it more of a formal affair than it should be,” Thorin nodded.

“I think Kili is quite happy with it,” Bilbo commented while he watched Kili flirt with Tauriel from across the room.

Thorin hissed beside him, “I don’t like to think of my nephew becoming involved with an Elf. Why couldn’t the boy have better taste?”

“Oi! Watch it! I like Tauriel,” Bilbo argued, “besides, who else is Kili supposed to like? He told me he’s never been to the living world.”

“That’s a good point,” hummed Thorin, “if I let him go this year he might lose interest in her. Besides, he’s been around you this long, so he’s not as likely to make a fool of himself meeting other humans.”

“I hope he and Tauriel work out, actually, I think they’re well suited. And don’t give me that look, she’s shy but she’s very nice and very friendly. I don’t care much what you say about Thrandruil but you better watch your mouth about her, and I mean it,” he said sternly.

Thorin looked apologetic, “I’m sorry, for you and for my nephew I will be more open to her. I have no doubt of your ability to prove my shortcomings.”

“Nonsense, you’re too hard on yourself. I mean, yes, alright, you can be a bit pigheaded, but I’m used to it… so it’s sort of endearing.”

Thorin chuckled full of humour and fondness. He then lent over and kissed the top of Bilbo’s head very delicately. It was still enough to make both of them blush.

“Master Baggins.”

Bilbo shot upright in surprise at his name and Thorin glared at Thrandruil. He was standing in front of their table and held out his hand.

“I believe the last set of dances are about to begin. Would you honour me with a dance?”

Thorin was livid, but Bilbo cut off any chance for a confrontation, “One dance only, I’m afraid. I’m promised for the rest.”

He gave Thorin’s arm a reassuring pat as the music began to swell again. Thorin’s jaw was set aggressively tight while Bilbo joined Thrandruil on the dance floor.

“I apologize, I believe I interrupted something,” said Thrandruil slickly as they took their places with the other gathering partners.

“Actually, you did,” Bilbo sighed.

“I am actually sorry,” Thrandruil replied, “I thought it would be rude to finish the night without having danced with the guest of honour. My party and I did promise to honour you at this event.”

“You’re probably right,” he replied, “but Thorin won’t think of it that way.”

Bilbo wasn’t so awkward with any other partner as he was with Thrandruil. The king was a supernaturally graceful dancer with an energy completely different than any of his previous partners. Bilbo’s every step was meek and so painfully mortal next to Thrandruil, and by the last turn he was terribly self-conscious.

“Thank you for the dance, Master Baggins,” said Thrandruil and he bowed low.

“Yes, and thank you,” Bilbo stuttered.

He turned hoping to spot Thorin but he was quickly overwhelmed by a mass of Elves asking for a dance. Apparently he had spent too much of it dancing with the Dwarves and everyone was eager to be his partner before the last dance. Bilbo couldn’t find it in him to refuse that much attention and an Elf had already taken his hand before Thorin’s voice boomed over the guests.

“ENOUGH! STOP CROWDING HIM, YOU INSUFFERABLE FLIES!”

The Elves stepped back and Bilbo quickly made his way over to Thorin who was continuing to yell and berate them.

“Thorin, stop—”

“Do any of you have no courtesy!? Passing him around like that! The poor man can barely even keep up with one dance he’s so tired, but none of you paid him any mind! Insufferable, selfish, and self-centered frost sprites!”

“Thorin, enough!” Bilbo pulled on him to back away from the Elven party. Unfortunately some of those from Erebor had joined in with Thorin and were heckling the Elves as well.

“You might as well leave! You swore to honour him as our living guest! I’d call you a disgrace to your lineage but there is nothing left there to taint! Go back to your frozen hell, you rightfully deserve it!”

“THORIN!!” Bilbo jumped and wrestled Thorin’s head off his body, “Just _think_ of what you are saying! Thorin! That’s terrible!” he whispered sharply into his disembodied ear. Thorin looked like he meant to speak again but Bilbo resolutely covered his mouth, “I think you’ve said enough for now!” he hissed.

Thorin’s body flailed uselessly behind him and Dis and Balin appeared and called an early finish to the Danse Macabre.

“There’s no salvaging this mess,” Dis huffed, “Well, the first and last time the Elves will dance in our ballroom, I suppose. Good call with my brother,” she added and nodded to Thorin’s head who was glaring at her.

As the guests were being shuffled out Bilbo sought out Tauriel in the crowd, “Tauriel! I’m sorry I did not get to ask you for a dance, this is an awful mess of an end to the night.”

“Well, messy is a right word,” she said, glancing anxiously to back of Thorin’s head.

“Your dress is lovely, though, I mean it.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replied, blushing a little, “I like your outfit as well.”

“Thank you, thank you, are you all going to leave right away?” he asked anxiously.

“We were going to leave before midnight, and I think my lord will stick to that. The ball may be, um, ending early but not by much and we still need to pack and prepare the sleds. I need to help with those preparations, preferably not in a dress. Come say goodbye to us before we depart.”

“I will, and I’m terribly sorry,” said Bilbo.

When the doors closed Bilbo was alone in the huge ballroom with only Thorin’s head tucked in arms and his body that had managed to trip over some of the chairs in the commotion.

Bilbo drew back his hand from Thorin’s mouth and lifted the head at eye-level in front of him. For a minute they only glared at each other.

“ _Well?_ ” asked Bilbo sharply.

“You’re the one who owes me an apology.”

“Oh, _oh_ , and how about I just dump your head in the punch fountain, then.”

“Bilbo, you embarrassed me in front of my people and the Elves. I am a king!”

“You were embarrassing yourself!” he scoffed, “you’re _lucky_ I was here!”

“Put my head back on my shoulders!”

“No!”

“Put my back in one piece or so help me!”

“Oh please, I can just make sure your body will never find its head again. If I found that journal in the haunted mansion I can sure as hell find a good hiding spot for your head.”

“You’re ridiculous!”

“No, you are! I was looking for you, you know! I was trying to find you and dance with you! But instead of pulling me aside you had to insult the whole Elven company and crash the party early. Well done!”

“How was I supposed to find you in that crowd! You were uncomfortable with all that attention, what I said was true!”

“That they deserve their curse? That was true? Thorin, I’m certain in your right mind you would never say such a thing!”

Thorin shut his moth before he answered back and finally looked ashamed, “You are right, I will admit that was going too far.”

“Thorin, be truthful, can you really be proud of how you acted?”

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m not proud! I’m not proud that it came to that, yelling and insults, it’s a mark against all of Hallowtide—there is no pride in that!”

“I didn’t _have_ to come to that! You do know that, right?”

“They were crowding you, and one of them took your hand, and you were uncomfortable, Bilbo. I couldn’t get to you!” Thorin’s voice was not just jealous but desperate and painful, “I could not get to you, Bilbo, after I finally had you with me, and they were intent on spiriting you away.”

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo answered with exasperation, “you’re thicker than these castle walls.”

“I’m sorry, Bilbo. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you. And now I can see I’ve ruined the Danse Macabre for you.”

“Well,” he answered sheepishly, “the band is still here.”

Thorin’s eyes were hopeful and so tender and grateful, “You still want to dance with me after that?”

“Oh, you absolute dolt,” he sighed.

Bilbo pulled Thorin’s head towards him and kissed him. It was very, very strange kissing a disembodied head. Much of the experience was the same, the lips were warm and Thorin was achingly tender, but it was all in Bilbo’s hands to pull apart to breathe, to deepen the kiss, to relax it, to draw it out, to exchange quick pecks or adjust to any angle. Thorin loved every bit of attention Bilbo gave him and Bilbo lost any grasp on time much too easily. The only thing that broke them apart was the sound of a table being flipped and crashing.

Bilbo sighed as he walked over to Thorin’s poor disorientated body. It was picking itself back up onto its feet and Bilbo giggled while Thorin’s head groaned at its clumsiness. The band picked up their instruments again and when the music lifted up around the two something magical took up inside Bilbo. The extra arms of his costume raised themselves up and one pair pulled the body towards the center of the dance floor.

Bilbo passed Thorin’s head to his two fake middle arms as he took one of Thorin’s hands and placed his other on his shoulder. Thorin’s other hand settled on his lower back, and the other pair of fake arms wrapped around either side of Thorin’s back as well, hugging them together. They danced a long while like that, sometimes changing the head between hands and arms. Eventually it did find its way back to its shoulders, and Thorin struggled to twirl Bilbo in the echoing ballroom while he had six pairs of arms very intent to stay hugged and settled on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that's a pretty long chapter done. I actually wrote this out while too sick to focus on any of my school work. I wouldn't expect another update until possibly April. Uh oh, we're only a few chapters away from Halloween in the fic!!


	20. Jack O' Lantern Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now very close to Halloween, those in Erebor remember their loss and curse with a blaze and requiem of jack o' lanterns.

Bilbo woke up to absolute silence and it flabbergasted him.

The castle had been rather quiet after the departure of the Elves the night beforehand. But when Bilbo had lain between the covers exhausted he had fallen asleep with the sounds of soft wind against the windows, his clock ticking on the other side of the room, and the creaking of the wooden doors and furniture. Now there was nothing. He shuffled out of bed and over to his clock. He could feel his heart pressing against the back of his throat when he looked at its face; the hands were moving but he could not hear them tick. He snapped his fingers in front of his eyes and still he heard nothing.

It was like ice had just been pressed against his spine. He quickly dressed and bolted down the narrow staircase. Dread and confusion were bitter in his mouth and he desperately looked for someone in the halls. He could feel the rushed pulsing of his veins but he could not hear his own heart beating. He sprinted down halls and hammered on random doors. Suddenly strong arms grabbed him from behind and spun him.

Thorin was trying to calm him but he could of course not hear any of his words. Bilbo tried to speak but even without being able to hear he could tell the words were not coming out. His vocal cords failed to work and the edges of his vision began to go black. Even on his arms where Thorin held him he began to go numb. He could only feel his heartbeat—and he swore his ribs were bruising from it—and the acrid taste of panic.

Then he tasted something new. Feeling returned to his lips and he could feel something being pushed into his mouth. As he savoured and chewed the piece of cooked pumpkin feeling slowly returned to the rest of his body. His vision clumsily returned and he could finally begin to hear again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Bilbo. None of us remembered until we started harvesting the pumpkins. It’s been so long since our last human guest, we forget this happens of the morning of the vigil. Can you hear me? Or see me?”

“Yes, Thorin,” he replied weakly. Thorin let out a desperate breath of relief.

“Tonight is the Jack O’ Lantern Vigil,” Thorin explained while caressing his hair with one hand, “it’s the anniversary of the Necromancer first appearing at our castle to make his demands. And the magic on the land rejects anything alive. You need to eat food from here to stay, and pumpkin is traditional, since it’s the first day we may harvest our pumpkins.”

“What was happening to me?” asked Bilbo fainted, “Or, well, what would have happened if I hadn’t eaten?”

Thorin’s jaw set tensely, “I’m not sure what would have happened. But you were fading. I could barely see you or feel you. You might have disappeared forever.”

“I, well, that’s quite, uh,” Bilbo fumbled. His head went cold and he fainted.

He woke up on a nearby couch with Thorin fretting over him. He pushed away Thorin’s hand as he tried to adjust a pillow under his head for the third time.

“Thorin, _please_ , remember really, really hard, and tell me. For the rest of my time here, do I need to be worried about dying, disappearing, or otherwise being unable to return home on Halloween in one piece?”

“No, no, Bilbo, of course not, I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“You didn’t think for very long. _Stop_ , _think_ , and _remember_. If I wake up to one more nasty surprise here I will never come back, I swear it.”

Thorin froze and his face paled. His eyes darted to the side as he very obviously went over the next few days. “No,” he decided, “no, I swear it. You’re through the worst of it.”

Bilbo didn’t answer at first and Thorin was still as stone with nervousness and fear.

“Will you return?”

Bilbo sighed and put his hand over his heart, “At this rate I think I’ll die of a heart attack before I get out of here. Get me a proper breakfast, though, I’ll be more amenable to returning, that’s for sure.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and kissed Bilbo’s forehead before going to get him food.

Bilbo ate in silence while his heart rate slowed and Thorin was too scared to break the quiet. He fidgeted anxiously while Bilbo chewed his last mouthfuls.

“Did you say what it is we do on the Jack O’ Lantern Vigil?” Bilbo asked after his last swallow of breakfast.

“We harvest the pumpkins and carve them,” Thorin answered, “at sunset we place the candles inside and then we hold the vigil.”

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully and after Thorin set the dishes back in the kitchen they set off towards the pumpkin patch together.

“Is there a particular face you carve?” Bilbo asked.

“No, no, there isn’t. You can carve whatever expression you feel inspired to do.”

The air outside was colder than Bilbo expected and he pulled his cardigan towards his neck and hissed at the chill.

“You forgot your scarf,” Thorin noted.

“Yes, well, disappearing makes you panic, and scarves tend to get lost in panics.”

“Let’s go get it first, then.”

Bilbo made to protest but Thorin turned his shoulders around to march him back up the stairs to his room. When they got there Bilbo couldn’t remember where he had put the scarf the other night.

“Was any of those drinks at the Danse alcoholic last night? Because I seem to be having the foggiest time remembering just what I did with that scarf,” Bilbo asked while crouching to look under the bed.

“No, that would just be your memory failing you. Do you need a jacket, too? We should have old jackets around, but to find one in your size will be difficult.”

“You keep teasing me for my height, but I’ll have you know, I felt very tall when we first met and you were nothing but a head!”

Thorin laughed, “Except it was my body you met first, and that alone is still quite taller than you.”

Bilbo stood up from his position of checking under the bed to glare at Thorin, who then walked over to face him.

“I wouldn’t want you any different, though,” Thorin mumbled and he stooped over to give Bilbo a very gentle kiss.

“Sappy thing,” Bilbo blushed and chastised, “you’re the unnaturally tall one, anyhow. I should be the one to want you a different height.”

“Is this better?” Thorin sat on the edge of the bed and asked.

“You should _not_ look so tall while _sitting_!” Bilbo said aghast and giggled.

Thorin took Bilbo’s hands and pulled him closer for another gentle kiss. Feeling mischievous, Bilbo pushed Thorin backwards and he landed flat against the bed.

“We’re here to look for my scarf,” he declared.

“Are you sure it’s not in your bed? Maybe you should check more thoroughly.”

“ _Terrible_!”

“No, I’m serious,” Thorin pulled out Bilbo’s scarf from under the duvet cover, “it’s in your bed.”

“If anyone asks, you are absolutely not telling them you found my scarf between the sheets of my bed.”

Thorin went red and scoffed, “Of course not!” But a smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Now with a scarf in place the two resumed their walk over to the pumpkin patch. Bilbo had gotten used to the air in Erebor being crisp but even with the scarf it was still cold. Thorin unclasped his ragged red cape and wrapped it around Bilbo’s shoulders and it was warmer than he expected.

“You won’t get cold?” Bilbo asked.

“No, I won’t,” Thorin answered, “oh—wait, maybe I will. We can share it.”

“Too late,” Bilbo answered smugly and pulled the cape tighter around him while Thorin tried to hide his disappointment.

When they finally arrived at the pumpkin patch the others had already laid out a huge tarp and had begun to carve some of the many pumpkins of the field. Bombur, however, was missing, as he had already begun to cook the first batch of pumpkins in the kitchen of the castle. The guts from the pumpkins were being piled in the center of the tarp. Although it was still early morning, nearly fifty pumpkins have already been carved and were piled around wheelbarrows.

“We’ve been carving pumpkins on this day for hundreds of years, we’ve gotten quite fast,” Thorin explained.

“The Jack O’ Lantern Vigil is a time to remember the lives of all the Ereborians we lost to the Necromancer. We carve faces to capture all sorts of emotions and moments of life,” Thorin gestured a few of the jack o’ lanterns around them, “and at sundown we light them to signify the end of that life and memorialize our grief.”

 Bilbo was mesmerized by the attention and tenderness each of his new friends gave to each pumpkin and face they carved even though they carved them so quickly. Bilbo walked through the pumpkin patch and picked out a small, plump pumpkin to begin with. The knives had all been sharpened in preparation and cutting through the rind had been easy. Special curved knifes and sharp edged spoons had also been laid out for gutting. Before starting on his face he turned around in his mind what Thorin had said about remembering lives and emotions. Hesitantly, he scratched across the skin of the rind a gleeful and slightly mischievous expression, with crinkled eyes, dimples, and a gentle grin. He was carefully capturing the expression of his mother.

Thorin beside him was quickly turning out faces his wrists had memorized through many years of carving, and would even look over to Bilbo or his work without needing to break pace. Bilbo could tell he was curious, he had just started to carve the very specific features of the jack o’ lantern, but his throat felt sticky and dry from the many memories of his beloved mother he was channeling. Thorin seemed to sense this, and did not question him.

As they worked the company took turns humming or chanting different songs which the others often join. The tone of the songs shifted continuously from pleasant, to morose, to giddy, to vengeful. Bilbo paid particular attention when they broke from the songs to tell stories of the many countryfolk that had been lost as spectres.

“Do you remember the barber who worked across from the old cobbler? The one whose four brothers all worked the mill? Such a perfectionist, he was,” laughed Bofur, “wouldn’t let you leave his shop until he was satisfied you looked marvelous. Short tempered, too!”

“Aye,” added Gloin, “he had a daughter I remember, a feisty thing, only eight and she must have picked a fight with every boy within a day’s walk.”

“I was old friends with the perfume maker,” remembered Dori, “he was almost always gone, travelling with his scents, what a pity he was selling his perfumes at the castle then.”

“Ha! I remember him! He wasn’t at the castle to sell his wares; he liked to gamble down in the shadier pubs. He must have been the lover of lady luck, the dice he would roll!” whistled Nori fondly.

“Really?” asked Dis, “I suppose that makes sense. Only pure luck could make a mixture of sage and orange that actually smelled good.”

“He had a nephew who was training to paint portraits, did he not? I remember the boy’s mother was a natural at embroidery. The courtiers would commission her often, such beautiful work,” said Balin.

When Bilbo finished his jack o’ lantern he set it behind him rather than near the wheelbarrows with the others. He then set off to find a similar sized pumpkin and came back with one only slightly fatter. Again, he scratched into the rind a sketch to start, and tried his best to replicate the relaxed and affectionate visage of his late father. Thorin took another glance at this new carving, and seemed to realize the connection. Even from his peripheral vision Bilbo realized how delicately he was regarding him and was too overwhelmed to turn to him fully.

The others would pause from their work, memories, and singing to periodically wheel away the finished jack o’ lanterns towards the west and return with the wheelbarrow empty. With the pumpkins constantly moving about from the patch, to their tarp, to their next destination, it was difficult to estimate how many they had carved so far and Bilbo soon gave up trying. Around midday Bombur came from the kitchens to check on their progress as well as to deliver to Bilbo a sandwich with spiced apple sauce on the side, for which Bilbo graciously thanked him.

When Bilbo finally finished his two pumpkins Thorin had offered to personally set them at the memorial blaze and he had reluctantly given them over to Thorin’s trust. After his parents Bilbo felt a bit lost at whom to remember in his next jack o’ lantern. While he was wandering the pumpkin patch Kili swung his arm around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to make it about anyone in particular, you know?” he winked.

“Oh, well, I guess I may have gotten the wrong impression then,” fumbled Bilbo.

“Ah, well, look at me and Fili. We don’t know any of these people they’re telling stories about, it’s all before our time, and beyond our late father we don’t have anyone to remember. But you can always just make a jack o’ lantern for the many experiences of life itself, you know? Channel something sort of universal, like anger or love, or even more personal. And Bilbo, I think you should carve _that one,_ ” said Kili as he pointed to the largest pumpkin in the patch. It about as large as poor Bilbo.

“I could live in there! How do you expect me to even bring that over to the tarp?!”

“I would help, of course!”

“I don’t think I like the idea of all of the mockery that would accompany me carving a pumpkin about my own size,” sniffed Bilbo.

“Aw, we won’t mock you!”

“Aren’t you _only_ suggesting that pumpkin so you can tease me?”

“Well-” answered Kili guiltily, “you’re not giving me much credit. I think because it is your size it will make it all the more impressive if you carve it. More than anyone else.”

Bilbo scoffed, “You’re not as convincing as you think you are.”

Kili huffed and crossed his arms, “Fine. Doubt a perfectly innocent vampire. I just thought it would be fun.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes but gave in. The two of them carried the huge pumpkin over to the tarp together, most of the others pausing in their work to ogle Bilbo’s undertaking. Bilbo gave them a warning glare and none of them made any comments, however.

Well, except for Thorin, who was just returning.

“How the hell are you going to carve that?” he asked flabbergasted.

“With more luck than you make polite comments, I imagine,” he replied.

Thorin twisted his mouth with regret and sheepishness, “I’m sorry.”

“My goodness, that actually sounded painful to say!” Bilbo exclaimed, “It’s alright, but help me get it started, would you please?”

A little embarrassed Thorin helped Bilbo detangle and scoop out the guts from the pumpkin. Bilbo gave Thorin’s hands a couple gentle pats to show he was teasing, which lightened Thorin’s mood considerably. When they finished, Bilbo sat on the ground, crossed his legs, and tapped his fingers against his knees trying to brainstorm a design.

Bilbo thought for a while about making the expression grievous, to express the misery he felt during the loss of his parents. But Bilbo decided against it, and contemplated on the peace he had clumsily managed to settle over his wrung heart. He couldn’t believe then, at the funerals and many months after their deaths, that he would ever live a moment not grieving his parents. But as time went on Bilbo made an odd sort of discover; grief did not always have to be tragic. Sometimes grief was anger at the missed opportunities, or disgust as he felt the relief of no longer having to care during the prolonged sickness toward the end. And sometimes grief was happy, as he knew his parents lived a life together without regrets, content with their love for each other, their son, and their community until the end. They lived good lives, and that at times made grief peaceful.

Bilbo spent the rest of the afternoon translating this as well as he could into his pumpkin. While the rest of the company sped through dozens upon dozens of new jack o’ lanterns Bilbo kept his focus on his creation until he finally finished in time for a late supper. The colours of the sky were getting excited for the sunset by the time Bilbo returned to the castle for a quick meal of chopped tomatoes, herbs, and scrambled eggs over buttered and slightly toasted bread. He chatted a little with Bombur before the two of them headed out together.

The sunset was unusually brilliant, the flushed orange seemed to fight against the impending twilight and the sky was actually fuchsia for the last stretch as the Ereborians began to light the jack o’ lanterns. There were hundreds of pumpkins all lined up along the bank of a wide creek Bilbo hadn’t seen before. They were on a side of the castle grounds unfamiliar to him, and many of the pumpkins were even set on floating docks which Gloin waded between with his matches and candles. As the sky finally grew dark the lights from the candles reflected brilliantly against the calm water of the creek as well as through the mouths, eyes, and many intricacies of the hundreds of lanterns. Some of the larger pumpkins, Bilbo realized, had been designed with the carvings only near the top of the pumpkin, so that they could be lit and floated down the creek.

It was quiet except for the flickering of the candles, the mellow movement of the creek, and the sweet sound of the water bouncing against the floating jack o’ lanterns. Bilbo’s breath hitched as he caught sight of the lanterns of his parents, placed snugly next to each other, and his parents seemed for a brief moment alive again, smiling at him, and Bilbo felt the tears cool his hot cheeks.

Quietly, then, the company brought out several instruments. Thorin started humming low and Fili drew out a long note on his violin. They gradually built up the melody for a deep requiem, and more of the Ereborians joined in until a soft and beautiful crescendo had Bilbo’s heart bleeding. And even though tears blurred his vision it only made the blaze of the Jack O’ Lantern Vigil all the more beautiful.

Since he had lost his own parents, Bilbo had understood much of the pain that had been shared with him since his time in Erebor. But it was only then, looking over the hundreds of jack o’ lanterns, the cursed forms of his friends, and remembering the many graves he had seen and the emptiness of the court and castle, that Bilbo truly realized the magnitude of the loss. An entire kingdom had been literally ripped apart, and hundreds of souls were lost forever to a restless haze of a loss and estrangement. Bilbo spied his huge pumpkin, the symbol of his own grappling with grief, with the expression of peace and soft misery and he couldn’t breathe. Hundreds of souls seemed to appear like moonlight across the creek. The spectres that had whispered to him and clawed at his window were now looking over the creek and the lanterns and didn’t even seem to understand it was for them. But they hummed and sang along to the requiem nonetheless.

And Bilbo, the only living creature surrounded by all this death, he remembered thousands of tomes and memorials of unknown soldiers, victims, and peoples, with skeletons piled and collected in unsiftable mass graves. And yet… every misplaced femur and finger could be read like a journal if you knew how. They had logged in their minerals the fractures, the motions, the growth, and the life they once witnessed. Each scattered bone with a unique story belonging to a unique person. And there were so many. There were so many lives lost and they would never get a name, or a story, to be remembered. But at least, Bilbo thought, closing his eyes, they could have a requiem.

They stayed out by the creek for hours. Bilbo, the gentle soul, never stopped crying throughout the vigil. As the many candles began to go out they did not light them again. Darkness would very slowly overtake the vigil, and Bilbo, he was determined to stay until the last candle went out, which touched the others very deeply. They quietly handed him a candle to hold in his hands to at least give him some warmth throughout the long and cold night. Gradually, as the many candles went out, even the spectres grew too weary to echo the requiem across the placid banks, and they fell into the most peaceful and deep sleep they would have the whole year.

Thorin stayed with Bilbo even as the rest of the company left. He tried to give Bilbo some more warmth, since his candle in his hands had burned out and the dried tears on his cheeks were still chilled. It was late when the last candle went out, and Bilbo, still settled next to Thorin, fell asleep. Thorin carried Bilbo back and settled him into his bed. But Thorin, poor Thorin – with a heavy crown above his severed neck, still holding the hand of the love of his life and death who had wept until he slept in the cold for him and his people – he could not move from Bilbo’s side. So he stayed there, kneeling by Bilbo’s bedside, until he too drifted into a sleep almost as peaceful as real death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew -- I was gone all summer and now I'm uploading a bit of a shorter chapter. I'm hoping I can get to Halloween before actual Halloween this year, but I can't make any promises. Still, that's only, what? Two chapters away? Hallowtide is wrapping up!


	21. All Hallows' Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one day left until Halloween, and it's a feast to rival Thanksgiving!

Bilbo woke up first. Which is odd, considering Thorin does not actually need to sleep. It was dim in the room, but judging from the light filtering between the cracks of the heavy curtains, Bilbo judged that he must have slept in quite late. He could not remember how late it was when he finally went to sleep last night, nor, he realized, could he remember _where_ he fell asleep. But he guessed he had fallen asleep where he has just woken up, and when he went to gingerly roll out of bed, he did not expect to stumble right over top of a body.

“ _Oof_! What in the heavens?” Bilbo groaned a little and tried to shift his stomach away from the elbow jabbing him.

At the same time the body had jolted awake and actually shoved Bilbo right off of him before smashing his head into the bedside table, “ _Ouch, what in the hell-!?_ Oh.”

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked. In the dark of the room he could not make him out.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Bilbo, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” he stumbled over his words while massaging his hurt head.

Bilbo shuffled over to the window and pulled back the curtains, squinting against the light. Particles of dust floated thickly in the sunlight, “I don’t remember falling asleep at all last night, so I think you ought to deserve a pass.”

“Thank you,” grumbled Thorin, halfway between resenting the joke and being genuinely grateful.

With the room now lit Bilbo looked over at Thorin. His hair was tousled and his crown had fallen off in his sleep. His eyes were a little bleary and his face a little ruddy from sleep.  He was straightening his wrinkled clothes and replaced the crown before he noticed Bilbo watching him and grew a little embarrassed.

“Well, last night was a long night, I didn’t mean to linger at all, I just set you into your bed and, well…”

“You carried me to bed?” Bilbo laughed, “How many times are you going to carry me places before this month is over? I think I’ve lost count already.”

“You’re the one who keeps needing to be carried places,” Thorin replied indignantly, “I should ask you how many more times am I going to have to carry you? Will I have to carry you all the way back home, too?”

“Hm, I don’t know how it will look to my neighbours if I disappear for over a week and return with a handsome man carrying me over the threshold. But I’ll consider it.”

Thorin started to blush so fiercely that he could not reply. Bilbo just decided to take some pity on him and break the silence when Thorin abruptly turned around and clasped his hands behind his back as if he was admiring an invisible portrait on the wall.

“Do you think…” Thorin began hesitantly, “we will have any opportunity to continue our.. uh, a relationship, after this Halloween… or, I should ask, would you like to?”

“Yes, I should like to,” he answered after a few seconds and Thorin released the breath he was holding in, “but I suppose it won’t be for another year… I can’t stay here until next Halloween, I’m sorry; I can’t leave the shop or my house alone for so long.”

“I understand,” Thorin replied and he turned around to face Bilbo now, “but a year for me is not much time. I have been here for many, many years. It is much longer for you. Are you… are you sure you want to wait for… wait for me for a full year?”

Bilbo played with his fingers, “To be quite honest Thorin, I’ve never actually been in a relationship before. I never thought I would be. I was always quite happy to be a bachelor. Some people are scared of being alone, but for me, my tea and a book or my writing... Well, it’s all I ever thought I would need. But now I think maybe it could be…. My tea, a book, my writing, and you. Or, you and Erebor. I quite like it here, truthfully, although I love my little village as well. You are a grumpy and tender, proud but severe upon yourself at the same time, you take your responsibilities with so much compassion and seriousness, you really are a king, Thorin, and it’s breathtaking. I don’t think in all my life I could possibly be so bewitched by another.”

Thorin gently took Bilbo’s hands and pulled him into a tender hug. He rested his cheek on top of Bilbo’s head and stroked one thumb across Bilbo’s back.

Muffled in the embrace, Bilbo continued, “I don’t love you yet, but, I know that I can. I know that I can fall in love with you if I let myself. It would be like sinking into the chapters of a very good novel.”

“Why is it you work with historical items if all you are talking about now is books?” Thorin gently teased.

“Why is it you are hugging me when you could be kissing me?” Bilbo retorted, but the jest died away part way through speaking and it instead became an earnest request.

Last time they had kissed it had been exceptionally tender, softer even than the hug Thorin had him in now, and as Thorin cupped Bilbo’s cheek with one hand and lowered his lips, it began the same. Thorin was reverent just of the feeling of his lips against Bilbo’s, moving slowly and chastely, and Bilbo had to encourage him to be a little bolder. Neither of them had really done this before, so as they eagerly tried to deepen the kiss their teeth clinked together awkwardly and lips just seemed to be in the way no matter what they did with him. After a minute they broke apart just to laugh.

“Want to try that again?” Bilbo asked after his giggles died down.

“Absolutely.”

With a little more practice they managed to work out the kinks, although neither of them was impatient enough to be more passionate. Instead they simply enjoyed the kisses, taking a break a few times to laugh a little more and catch their breaths. They were interrupted when the clock struck one in the afternoon.

“One! I thought it was late, but one!” Bilbo exclaimed aghast.

“You did not fall asleep until after four in the morning, so it’s not that surprising.”            

“Well, one o’clock is just absurd. Excuse me, I need to get ready for the day. The day which is already more than half past!”

“We don’t have to be anywhere for another three hours.”

“That’s not the point. Ugh, how were kissing me when I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet!”

“I died in the middle ages.”

“Okay, fair enough. Now shoo! I need to shower.”

“Okay, I’m leaving! I’ll see you at dinner.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Bilbo agreed before seeing it that the door was shut before showering.

While doing his routine in the bathroom Bilbo ruminated on how much his own confession took him by surprise. It had been entirely earnest, and it left Bilbo wondering if he really couldn’t afford to leave home for a year. He could have a day to set any affairs in order; he had enough saved up to pay in advance the house’s very low water and power expenses for the year and a friendly neighbor could keep an eye on the place or occasionally housesit. The shop was another dilemma, though. He had on occasion taken a high school student as an employee or given a nephew a summer job, but there was no one who could run the store for a full year. He would have to lease out the space with town hall’s permission, and there’s no way such a thing could be organized in just one day. He could maybe set this up for next Halloween, though.

Bilbo wished he could dress nicely for the feast. Unfortunately, aside from the Danse Macabre outfit, he only had the one set of clothes. At least he had hung them in the bathroom so the steam from the shower could straighten out any wrinkles. He tried to make the outfit look neater than usual before heading down for the feast.

The All Hallows’ Feast was being held in the main hall on the ground level of the castle, and as Bilbo passed by the parlor connected to the usual dining room, he could already smell the spices and savoury tastes being prepared. What he didn’t foresee was the décor set up for the feast.

The hall had been transformed. The walls were dark and covered from ceiling to floor with spider webs flecked with reflective glitter and mirror shards. The long table in centre of the room was slickly polished with a black spider web lace table cloth. White, black, and red candles were lit all along the table and their light was brilliantly reflected by the pieces in the spider webs all along to the ceiling where they became stars. There were sheet ghosts hanging elegantly from the ceiling as well, with string lights draped from their heads along their bodies. Silk was layered into the fabrics of the ghosts and they were sparsely lined with fine sequins.  Scattered across the floor were gold and red leaves.

Along the table the dishes and plates were all orange ceramics or cast iron. The goblets were cast iron frames with glass panes and a couple inches of blood red wine. Compared to the food after the Marathon of Horrors, the All Hallows’ Feast was much less kitschy. There were cauldrons bubbling with fresh apple cider, pumpkin ale, or soups made from pumpkin, squash, or zucchini. There were apple and pumpkin pies, baked yams and sweet potatoes, corn or pumpkin muffins, baked and spiced slices of pumpkin rind or squash, roasted nuts and brittle, baked pumpkin seeds, apple sauce, roasted vegetables of all sorts,  baked mushroom heads, pecan pie, candied apples, and an assortment of different kinds of butters, jams, and spreads with dinner rolls. As Bilbo moved along the table in awe he found new dish after new dish of vegetables, gourds, apples, and nuts. None of the platters had been touched yet, with many of the company members milling about setting new platters on the table and rearranging its décor to fit the growing amount of food. Bilbo greeted his friends as they passed but for the most part he was awestruck by the food in front of him.

He knew the feast was ready to begin when Bombur finally joined them in the hall. The rest of the company quieted down and took seats at the table. Thorin caught Bilbo’s attention and gestured for him to sit by him. Dis was the last to sit down. She took a moment in the silence to bewitch a small band of skeletons to play for their dinner. After she sat down, Thorin, at the head of the table began yet another speech.

“Friends, family, and company: we are the dearly departed gathered here on this eve to drink and eat to our own memories. Tomorrow at sundown we may pass once more into the world of the living, but we will not belong there. We would turn to dust the moment plants begin to grow again, rather than wither. We were torn from that world centuries ago, with no one but ourselves to remember our own pain, grief, and lives.

That would usually be true. But this year something marvelous has happened. Yet again we have been joined by a living soul. And once again we welcome him in our love and our companionship. We are forever fortunate to have you remember and grieve our lives. Bilbo, there is nothing which is more valuable to the dead than such memory. Thank you.

Let us drink to our lives long lost, and to Bilbo.”

They all drained their goblets of the wine. It was not like any wine Bilbo had tasted before. It had a sharp, bitter taste that turned sweet before completely disappearing without an aftertaste. He wondered if it was meant to clear his palette.

The soups were the first to be dished out and Bilbo was torn between the pumpkin and butternut squash soup. Balin hopefully suggested the squash soup as he would probably be eating a lot of pumpkin later. Next, the savoury, roasted, and baked platters were passed around, until they had all built up an impressive tower of gourds and vegetables. Bilbo half expected to hear them argue over plates or preferences, but the Ereborians were unusually polite at the table of the All Hallows’ Feast, and the staggering amount of food was passed around with civility. Their politeness was by no means awkward; there was just a certain amount of awe to eating such specially prepared food at the hallowed table.

Bilbo helped himself to the apple cider. Usually the taste of apple cider is boiled or watered down, but the freshly prepared batch had a strong bite from the apple’s acid that was almost addictive. Before the sweet dishes were passed around Bilbo, Thorin, Kili, Fili, and Balin had the first slices of pumpkin pie as their reward for winning the competition during the Harvest. Bilbo winked at Dis who took the opportunity to sulk at her loss.

Some of them at the table helped themselves to second servings of soup or other platters before eating the dessert foods. After most of them had begun to eat dessert the formality of the dinner was broken and small pockets of conversation started up along the table. They ate, talked, and drank cider over hours and yet they barely made a dent into the platters on the table. The skeletons played requests but with everyone too full to dance they instead sang along.

As the cauldron full of pumpkin ale started to run low singing at the table became more frequent and less coordinated. The spider webs vibrated with the singing and laughter so that their collective voices could make the room twinkle. Eventually everyone was too full and sleepy to continue to talk or eat, so Bilbo made his way up to his room with a small plate of pecan squares. A few steps from his room, though, he heard Thorin call his name. He had followed after him and bolted up the steps to tell him goodnight and give him a kiss before returning to the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooah got this out in time for Thanksgiving! Well, Canadian Thanksgiving. As I do not get a Thanksgiving feast this year, I wrote this to vicariously live the holiday. All of my feasts include turkey though, but by tradition Ereborians don't eat meat. Which is a shame. I goddamn love turkey.
> 
> This chapter is a bit short, yeah, but since Halloween is next you can expect it to be longer! Ehuehue. I'm also hoping I can release it on Halloween. It won't be the last chapter to this fic, but after the Halloween chapter things will change around. No spoilers, though!


	22. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally - Halloween night! Warning that at the end of the chapter can be found sexy times. Skim that part if it's not your jam.

Bilbo came down from his room that morning fully dressed with his cardigan, scarf, and clock in hand. He had tried his best to tidy up his guest room; he had straightened the covers on the bed, made sure the adjoining bathroom was clean, and opened the windows to air out the room. As he walked down the many steps towards the foyer off from the dining room he felt a little sad at having to leave the phantasmal realm.

A full breakfast was already waiting for him in the dining room as well as a pot of tea. Beside his breakfast was a note that read _Come out into the courtyard when you are ready for the day. There is a surprise. –Thorin._

Curious, Bilbo ate his breakfast perhaps a little too quickly before carrying the clock down the many steps to the front doors of the castle. The heavy wooden doors were propped open and Bilbo stepped out into the courtyard. Hung around were huge bouquets of deadly nightshade, dried and thorny rose stalks, witch hazel, and wolfsbane. There were stacked totems of jack o’ lanterns, tables with bowls upon bowls of different candies and chocolates, and silly, animatronic ghosts, skeletons, zombies, and scarecrows.

Almost as soon as Bilbo stepped out Kili stepped out in front of him with a heavy black cape held just below his eyes. In a goofy Transylvanian accent he said, “I vant to thank you! Because of you, I vill be able to go into the human vorld!!” Kili then flipped his cape behind him with a flourish and scooped Bilbo into a hug.

“Be careful of the clock, Kili! I went through a lot of trouble for this!”

“Oh, right,” Kili murmured before setting Bilbo down gently, “ _still_ , thanks to you, Thorin agreed to let me go to the living world for the first time this Halloween! He says I’ve managed to adjust maturely to being around the living. Maturely! He actually said ‘mature’ and meant it for me!”

Kili was vibrating with excitement. He was wearing a replica of Bela Lugosi’s costume for the classic _Dracula_ , and had pulled his hair back into a slick ponytail, although he forewent adding the widow’s peak. “I was going to wear my chupacabra costume again but for my first Halloween I the living world I want to be classic, you know? And since I’m a real vampire, it sort of puts other human vampire costumes to shame! It’s going to be so much fun!”

“Well, you’re not going to go around telling people you’re a vampire, are you?” asked Bilbo.

“Uhh… no. That wouldn’t be ‘mature’ behaviour around the living,” he declared proudly.

“Is Fili going wear his Danse Macabre outfit or will he be Lon Chaney?”

“Well, neither. On moon-up on Halloween he changes. He’s sort of nervous about it,” Kili admitted.

“What do you mean changes?” Bilbo asked, concerned.

“He gets more wolfish. Nothing like the movies!” he assured, “He won’t go rampaging or anything, but it’s very strange for him.”

“Oh goodness, if I can be of any help please do ask,” Bilbo fretted.

“I’ll let him know, that’s very sweet of you.”

“Oi! What are you doing hogging Bilbo!” called Bofur as he joined them, “Happy Halloween Bilbo, not wearing your costume?” he winked.

“I’m a little old for costumes on Halloween. A ball maybe, but I’m not going trick-or-treating!”

“Don’t need to be trick-or-treating to wear a costume!” Bofur gawked.

“What about you! You’re not wearing a costume!” Bilbo argued.

“I am so! Can’t you tell?”

“Well, you changed your hat,” he replied.

“I’m the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! I tell ya. I guess I ain’t the one with no brains.”

“It’s pretty subtle,” said Kili.

“What do you know about subtle?” scoffed Bofur, “Come along, Bilbo, you’ve got the whole gathering waiting to talk to you.”

Bofur pulled Bilbo off towards the main party and they made rounds with all the different friends Bilbo had made over the week. Bilbo was eager to ask them what they liked to do with their day in the living world. Oin spent all of his time in bookstores and gathering lab equipment, while Gloin had different items from the castle appraised or sold as to collect a small treasury of modern money. Ori, too, like to spend his time collecting new books, although he occasionally saw a movie or a collected teas for Dori. Dori, who looked more monstrous than Ori, was able to enjoy tea shops and delicacies stores during Halloween night but often sent his younger brother out shopping on the following day so to avoid scrutiny. Nori wouldn’t give him a straight answer, but Bofur implied he enjoyed a good range of illegal or dubious activities. Dwalin answered frankly that he followed wherever the best drinks went.

Balin gave him a more complex answer. He apparently liked to do anything from joining Dori at tea shops, to visiting museums and galleries, to catching a sports game, or simply chatting up strangers in a park. Bilbo became enthralled in recommending places he should eat and things he should do until Bofur dragged him off to talk with his brother and cousin. Bombur pretty much went on a shopping spree for spices and ingredients missing from Erebor and spent any remaining time at niche restaurants. Ori or Oin were always kind enough to pick up some new recipe books for him. Bifur was a little shy to admit that he liked to visit botanical gardens or zoos. His favourite day in the living world had been when he was able to volunteer at an ocean clean up and ended up saving the life of a trapped seal.

Bofur usually joined one of the other Ereborians, either going drinking with Dwalin, catching movies with Fili, or even seeing a play with Balin. During Halloween night Fili had to be careful not to cause any suspicion with his transformation, but most strangers would simply praise him for the elaborate costume. After sun-up on All Hallow’s day, though, Fili usually went to matinees at the theatre before going on a shopping spree for movies to watch the rest of the year. Since the VHS was invented it became Fili’s obsession to stockpile as many movies as possible to watch with his younger brother back home. But Kili was so excited about watching a movie in a proper cinema theatre that Bilbo didn’t want to lower his spirits by mentioning that late October wasn’t prime time for action movies. Finally Bilbo met up with Dis, who was still decorating the courtyard and teaching pumpkins to sing.

“I go to my late husband’s grave. I spent all of my time there,” Dis replied.

A lump got stuck in Bilbo’s throat, but before he could find an answer, Dis continued, “Do you see that tent over there? My brother is in there, and he has something he would like to show you.” Dis gave him a tame smile before encouraging him on.

Bilbo’s eyes needed a minute to adjust to the darkness in the tent, but when they did adjust, there was enough light to make out everything inside fairly clearly. There were also the sounds of flapping, small squeaks and screeches, and as Thorin called him over, he realized the tent must have had bats in it. In Thorin’s hands was a small bat which Thorin was stroking with his thumb.

“Good morning, and Happy Halloween,” said Thorin with a tender smile.

“Where did all of these bats come from?” Bilbo asked in amazement.

“I think they might be like the plants. Not necessarily alive or dead, but _here_ ,” Thorin answered.

Thorin helped Bilbo set down his clock and take hold of the small bat and he pet it gingerly.

“It feels so vulnerable. I can feel its delicate bones! If I squeezed too hard I could crush this thing, it’s terrifying!” Bilbo admitted.

Thorin chuckled, “You won’t kill it, though. I’m sure to something very big you would feel the same way.”

“I’m a little worried I might hurt it, still.”

“Here,” Thorin moved the bat so it was no longer in Bilbo’s hands but hanging from them, its strong toes gripping onto Bilbo’s hand in a way that was barely painful. With his other hand free Bilbo pet its head and belly. It almost startled Bilbo when it stretched its leathery wings.

“It looks so much bigger when its wings are out!” Bilbo gasped.

Thorin laughed a little harder, “Yes, well, its wings are at least twice as wide as its body each.”

“Don’t tease me like that! Not while I’m still holding it! Does it drink blood?”

“I’ve never seen them eat. We feed our livestock, but the plants, spiders, crows, and bats never seem to need food or drink. I think they might be ghosts themselves.”

“Well, that sort of makes sense.”

“Does it? It seems rather arbitrary to me.”

“Well, to me I guess, it’s like you’re all spirits of Halloween. Even the wheat and the pumpkins and the crops are symbolic of Halloween’s harvest origins. And the spiders and bats are iconic. And then there’s Fili who’s a werewolf, or Kili who’s a vampire, and ghosts and ghouls and a witch and you are… the headless horseman?” Bilbo asked, less sure of his theory.

“A dullahan, I suppose,” Thorin answered, “a headless rider faerie. In folklore it’s a grisly caller of death.”

“Oh, that does sound familiar, now.”

“Balin first heard of it. I wouldn’t think about it twice but… according to legend the dullahan has a terrible fear of gold.”

“And do you?” Bilbo asked in surprise.

Thorin sighed, “Not in life. I thought it rather glamorous then. But soon after dead I began to have terrible nightmares about gold. Beautiful objects of gold would melt and burn me through my flesh, or swallow and drown in me in a molten sea. Or else I am being bound by and crushed by gold rings, or cut with gold knives, as if the metal itself loathed me. Dis eased the nightmares but I still cannot help recoil at the sight of it.”

Bilbo was about to offer him some comfort when the bat suddenly took off from his hand with a screech and startled him. Thorin laughed a little at his expense.

“Do not worry so much, Bilbo, they’re just dreams. Oin is terrified of any body of water, and Dwalin would never admit it, but he has a fear of open flames.”

“Really? Honestly, Dwalin is so terrifying, it’s a bit of a comfort to know he has a weakness.”

“He’s not so scary, he’s just a rude lout who would rather be suspicious and gruff than show any manners.”

“Wow, and that’s coming from you.” Thorin looked offended but Bilbo raised his hands in surrender before he could say anything.

“In any case,” said Thorin annoyed, “I wanted to show you the bats because it’s tradition to take one into the living world with us on Halloween. After crossing the threshold the bat has the opportunity to become living if it drinks fresh blood before sundown. Not human blood necessarily, it just needs to come from something living. I thought you might like to pick which bat.”

“That’s quite an honour, but you know these bats better, it would be better to make an informed decision, wouldn’t it?” Bilbo asked.

“They’re all sort of the same,” Thorin mumbled, “we sort of just take whichever one we grab first.”

“What a tradition,” Bilbo replied sarcastically, “you manhandle a random animal through a doorway and release it to either live again or die come next spring.”

“That’s why I’m asking you to improve it,” he replied, once again annoyed.

“Well, it’s not so bad, it kind of reminds me of setting a dove free for peace and joy.”

Thorin gritted his teeth, “‘Peace and joy’ sounds like an Elfish phrase.”

“Maybe we should come back just before nightfall and pick out one. I would like to see what else you all do before Halloween night. Do you have any customs like Trick-or-Treating?”

“Mumming, guising, and _pranks_ ,” Thorin spat, “the last one is the particular favourite of Kili and Fili. But I warned Kili that if he does any pranks this year then he won’t be allowed to visit the world of living. So I think we’re secure from their mischief.”

“Thorin, that is awfully unfair, Halloween is as much about mischief than anything.”

“You say that without having to endure their pranks. They usually involve separating my head from my body.”

Bilbo tooks Thorin’s arm in his hands, “Then maybe you should pull a prank. It might teach you some appreciation for the craft.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin looked at him in the dim tent in surprise, “I thought you would be too respectable for such stuff as pranks.”

“Well, perhaps now,” Bilbo puffed out his chest, “but I was quick a wicked trickster in my youth, and although I grew out of it I would not like to take that fun from the youth of today.”

“ _Wicked_ , I doubt,” Thorin laughed.

“When I was young my cousin Drogo refused to share the candy he had nicked from where his parents were hiding it for Halloween, so I invited the girl he wanted to be his sweetheart to go Trick-or-Treating with us. Except I told him she wanted to a couples costume with him and that he should dress up as rabbit and she would be a magician. My cousin was mortified when she showed up dressed as a pirate! He spent the whole night trying to prove he wasn’t childish in his fluffy bunny costume. They’re married now and he still hasn’t forgiven me,” said Bilbo while giggling between words.

“Bilbo Baggins, I don’t youth is an excuse for such cruel treachery,” Thorin teased.

They laughed together as they exited the tent. They joined the rest of the group who were gathered around in a circle of tables, chairs, drinks and candy, while watching each other act scenes from Halloween appropriate movies or stories – complete with costumes, props, and even cheesy stage effects. At the end of each sketch the rest of the group cheered and threw candy to the performers. Fili and Kili had just finished a scene from _Friday the 13 th _where the pair had played it straight except for the highest pitch voices and screams they could manage for the female characters. After a few rounds they broke up the acting to pull out some instruments and sang campy Halloween songs while Bombur handed out finger food.

When afternoon came around they were all too excited to sit anymore and instead darted around getting all the last minute things they needed for their day in the world of the living. Kili was almost sick with anticipation and Fili, Ori, and Gimli tried to keep him busy with games to burn off his extra excitement. Bilbo took his turns around to talk to different members of the group but soon he was sitting off to the side with Thorin again.

“I guess we should go pick out that bat now, it’s starting to get dark.”

“Bilbo, we need to talk about what will happen after All Hallow’s day. I don’t even want to think about parting with you, but I know you want to go home…”

“It’s not that I want to go home,” Bilbo sighed, “it’s that I wouldn’t be able to stay a full year here without more time to set my affairs in order. If I could then I probably would stay longer. It’s just so difficult when it’s a full year or a single day.”

Thorin looked at Bilbo hopefully, “But you would want to stay.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I could prepare for next year, though.”

“It means more than I can say that you would even want to stay here that long,” Thorin answered in a quiet voice. “I hope you won’t object to me spending my time in your world with you.”

“Of course not,” he said while taking Thorin’s hands, “I would love to show you my home.”

“I imagine it has many clocks,” Thorin replied seriously.

“Let me something straight about the clock. It’s a very nice clock, but I am not so attached to it as that. It just so happens to be what lured me here. Gandalf could have taken my teapot or a nice pair of embroidery scissors and I would have chased him down the same. If I knew chasing after my clock would have gotten me trapped in an alternate spooky world I would have abandoned the silly thing. Although I’m glad I didn’t know, because I met you.”

Thorin gave him a smile so fond it seized his heart a little. He then leaned over and pressed his lips very gently against his own, as if asking for permission to take a real kiss. Bilbo placed his hand just behind Thorin’s ear to pull him closer. They shared a few deep kisses before the excited cheers of their company broke their private moment.

“Stop your lovebirdin’ you two, it’s just about sundown!” Bofur called.

The party split off to different trees that open to different places of the world. Most met up a large tree half a mile straight from the front gate which would open to a large and bustling city. Dis ventured farther to find a doorway in one of the apple trees in the orchards that would take her closest to her late husband’s grave. Bilbo and Thorin met alone in front of the tree through which Bilbo first arrived in Erebor. In Bilbo’s carefully cuffed hand was the bat he had managed to coax to him earlier. Thorin held his clock.

The sunset was extremely quiet. The sun licked red flames as its gripped faltered on the horizon. Finally the last of the light was swallowed up and Bilbo swore that for a moment both his heart and clocked stopped. Then the moment passed and cheers like cackling shrieks rose up from the different corners of Erebor. Thorin clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and pointed towards the tree. A very pale outline of a keyhole appeared and sunk into the wood. Thorin procured a literal skeleton key from inside his robes and twisted it in the lock. Suddenly the door swung backwards along previously invisible edges. Inside it was completely black. Thorin placed his hand on Bilbo’s back and led him through. They stepped into the tree and for a moment it felt as if he was falling.

Bilbo felt solid ground underneath his feet once again but the world was still completely black. After a moment Bilbo realized his eyes were screwed shut and opened them. He was standing back in the forest from which he had disappeared ten days earlier.

“I’ve only been through this doorway a couple of times,” said Thorin sadly, “and not since over a decade ago. If I had come through more often then I might have met you sooner.”

“Well you’ve met me now,” said Bilbo sappily with a tender smile, “do I need to do anything in particular when releasing the bat?”

“No, it’s silent. You can go ahead and release her.”

Bilbo opened his hands and the bat appeared confused by her new surroundings. She took her time to stretch her wings and groom a little before taking off into the night.

Bilbo released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Thorin rubbed a spot between his shoulder blades before returning his clock to him.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” Thorin assured.

“I think we made a bigger fuss out of that than necessary.”

“It’s very possible,” Thorin agreed.

Bilbo led Thorin out of the forest and they soon emerged on along the downtown core.

“We’re close to my pawn shop, would you like to stop by and visit? I could return the clock and not have to worry about it anymore.”

“Oh yes, we cannot continue to leave the precious clock vulnerable in the open,” Thorin replied with mock severity.

“You’re lucky the precious clock is in my arms; else I might try to protect its honour.”

Thorin chuckled, “I’m curious as to how you would do that.”

“It involves a prank of my own,” Bilbo winked, “and a loose head.” Thorin scowled and muttered under his breath.

A couple minutes later Bilbo was unlocking his pawn shop door while Thorin was observing the face of the shop. The old sign that said ‘Baggins Pawn Shoppe’ had mostly faded.

“Why spell ‘shoppe’ with the extra letters? In the old fashion?” he asked.

“My father thought it was much more charming than it is,” Bilbo snorted. But his tone was affectionate.

A few kids were running around already in costume, trying to wheedle some early candy from the more generous stores before the neighbourhood homes would open their doors to them. A few teenagers were surreptitiously hanging about a liquor store and some of the shop owners were closing up early with a few more security measures than usual.

“Your pawn shop was a family store?” asked Thorin stepped through the doorway behind Bilbo.

“Yes, it belonged to my father mostly, but my mother would help out from time to time. She would paint as well, though. Quite the artist, I can show you some of her work hanging in my home. The house belonged to the family as well,” Bilbo explained as he replaced his clock carefully in the place from which Gandalf had spirited it away. He looked about his shop with a strange sense of incongruity.

They spent a little while in the pawn shop. Thorin looked about at the odds and ends and asked Bilbo about the things he found unfamiliar. So much of Erebor had managed to stay modern despite the obstacles but his questions of everyday items illuminated the reality of Thorin’s long death.

“It can tell you where you are in the world, like it’s marking you on a map. It can even give you coordinates and directions,” answered Bilbo, explaining a GPS system, “I don’t usually like to deal electronics but it’s what sells best.”

“It sounds exceptionally useful. Could it show me now?” Thorin asked.

“It needs a power supply first. But there’s one in my phone, I can show you later.”

“You have _this_ in your phone? Not a mobile phone, though, I assume. I’ve seen people use those before. They’ve gotten small.”

“No, that’s right, in my mobile phone. That system is a bit old but also more powerful than the little one in my phone.”

Thorin looked taken aback, “where is your phone? I never saw you use it in Erebor.”

“Ah, yes, I left here. I didn’t gather all my things before chasing after Gandalf,” Bilbo explained. He fished out his phone from behind his desk, “It still has some battery life, but it needs to be recharged soon.”

Thorin looked over his shoulder as Bilbo showed him a few of the features. When he showed Thorin a game app an idea struck Bilbo. “I could set up Fili and Kili with a game system, I bet they would love that. I wouldn’t know which games to buy, though.”

“To play games like this?” Thorin asked.

“Yes, but much bigger and more complex. Or with nicer graphics and such. They get quite involved. They’re more expensive than movies, though, but each game would last them much longer. More than a hundred hours each.”

Thorin nodded, “You’ll have to pass that information along to the boys and to Gloin. They usually meet up with him around noon the next day to collect some share of the treasury.”

“Mhm, or if we run out of time, I could pick something up for them as a gift to send back. I’m sure there’s a nice lad in the local games shop who would know what to get them.”

Thorin became agitated with the subject of their parting so instead Bilbo closed up the shop and they made their way to Bilbo’s home. It was a forty minute walk to his home, an isolated little cottage at the end of a lonely cul-de-sac that sat somewhere between the forest outskirts, the lesser downtown area, and the older midtown neighbourhoods. There was a small creek running through the property and lots of natural bushes and landscaping that had been cultivated into a native garden. If Bilbo’s family hadn’t had owned the whole cul-de-sac area then it would certainly been ripped up by now for more ambitious development, and Bilbo knew he was sitting on a small fortune in property value but he couldn’t imagine ever selling his childhood home. Because the home had unofficially stretched its yard to the whole of the cul-de-sac his bilingual mother had taken to calling the place “Bag End.”

Among the native plants were also gardens of herbs and vegetables. Holly had also been planted in a ring around the gate of the house, although it was often overtaken by the huge swaths of juniper. Behind the fence and gate, two large oak trees hid most of Bag End from view.

“It’s beautiful,” said Thorin, “it’s Halloween but there’s still so many kinds of plants that are green.”

“Well, some of them are green year round, although others are still fading.”

Bilbo led the way into his house. In the rounded hallways were filled with heirlooms and antiques. Bilbo pointed out the odd painting done by his mother as they passed through the home. She mainly painted landscapes in oil or the odd watercolour, but some portraits of her family could also be found hanging in the best wall space. He pointed out as well as his father’s prized books. Of all the kinds of thrifting his father loved best to collect rare and first editions of books or fix the bindings of others. It was a skill Bilbo managed to inherit but he could never refinish so well as the late Mr. Baggins. Bilbo noticed with pleasure that some of the plants he had hung to dry before he disappeared were now ready to be brewed into tea. He quickly prepared a new pot to steep.

“I should make some dinner before it gets too late. The house is too out of the way for the usual crowd of Trick-or-Treaters, but sometimes the odd parents decide their children need to work harder for their candy. Now that I think about it, I don’t even have a jack o’ lantern set out. Let’s put out some decorations in yard at least.”

Bilbo dug out a small box of decorations. There was an old, matted clump of cobwebs that had lost its stretch, some draping ghosts that they hung above the porch to flutter in the wind, some paper skeletons that they stuck to the windows, and a BEWARE sign that they hung on the door. Afterwards Thorin sipped tea while looking through family albums and Bilbo put together a zucchini casserole with fresh rolls. The food was in the oven when the doorbell rang for the first time.

“Trick or treat!” Three little Trick-or-Treaters in costumes Bilbo couldn’t guess held out empty pillow cases. A bored older sibling stood a short ways back.

“Hullo, and happy Halloween! Why don’t you tell me your costumes while my friend here gives you your dues?”

Thorin was stunned until Bilbo gave him a discrete shove towards the candy bowl. The three children explained their costumes as characters from a movie of which he was only vaguely aware. Thorin came back and, not knowing how much candy to give to the living children, emptied the entire bowl between the three of them. The three children thanked him excitedly and dashed off. Bilbo closed the door and looked to Thorin who was smiling widely.

“They liked me!”

“Well they ought to, since you gave them all of our candy. Oh dear, I might have some caramels hidden away somewhere, I hope that won’t be too dull for any other children that come by.”

Thorin tried to look a little ashamed but mostly he was too excited. Bilbo managed to salvage a few handfuls of caramels from candy jar he kept for his young cousins and niblings and the two of them ate their dinner in peace.

“So I was thinking,” said Bilbo as he cleaned away the dishes, “I don’t know if there’s anything you would like to do tomorrow, but for tonight, perhaps we could stay inside?”

“I would like that,” he answered, “I would spend all of this Halloween by your side if you would let me.”

“Of course, I was hoping the same,” he beamed at Thorin, “what would you like to do?”

They started the evening with Thorin teaching Bilbo card games from when he was alive. Later, Bilbo gave Thorin a history lesson on folk rock and R&B using his parents’ old vinyls. They played John Denver until Thorin could sing along. Then Bilbo told him stories about his most obnoxious college roommates. Only one other group of Trick-or-Treaters came by and Bilbo offered them a whole bag of potato chips to make up for the caramels. They finished the night with Bilbo reading poetry to Thorin until he fell asleep mid-sentence.

“No, I’m awake now, don’t carry me; you’re always carrying me. I’m a grown man. I can make my own way to bed this time.”

“Alright, but if you fall asleep halfway there then I will carry you,” Thorin teased. He helped him under the covers nonetheless and he turned off the light. When he turned to leave Bilbo grabbed his hand.

“I thought you wanted to spend all of Halloween beside me,” he mumbled drowsily.

“Do you want me to stay?” Thorin asked hopefully.

“I want you to come to bed,” he answered while tugging Thorin closer.

He slipped in beside him as carefully as he could, as if he was scared that if he did anything wrong then Bilbo might change his mind and boot him from the room. Bilbo had to actually life Thorin’s arms so he snuggle closer.

“That’s better,” he sighed.

Thorin stroked Bilbo gingerly but his body was so alert and tense that Bilbo started to get annoyed.

“Come on now,” Bilbo muttered and leaned over to kiss Thorin, “don’t worry so much.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Thorin replied, “what if I never see you again after next sunfall. I keep thinking… no matter how well this goes, what if I come back next year and you’re not here?”

“I will be,” Bilbo reassured, “I’ll be here and you’ll get to take me away back home with you. You’re so very old already, how much more could a single year be?”

“Time feels so much slower since I met you,” he confessed, “and it’s even slower when you’re not there anymore.”

Bilbo didn’t know what to say. He tried to kiss away Thorin’s worry, but as lovely as the kisses were, Bilbo too was dreading parting.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t stay here,” he complained. A memory clicked into place and Bilbo had an idea. “What if you did stay here?”

“I would disappear with spring.”

“Yes, but, you could go back before spring if you went back on Yule. What if you stayed here and used one of the Elves’ doorways to go back home in the winter? That would give you a couple months with me. And that would be enough time for me to sort out my affairs. I could go back with you at Yule and we wouldn’t have to spend this year apart at all.”

Thorin raised himself to look at Bilbo but in the darkness he couldn’t make out his expression. “That would mean asking the Elves for help,” he said bitterly.

“Thorin, _really_ , are you so bitter you would rather spend the year apart than ask them for a small favour?”

“No,” he said finally, “definitely not.”

Thorin positioned himself over Bilbo and kissed him so passionately he pressed Bilbo into the sheets of the bed. Some dam had finally broken and Thorin moved one hand down Bilbo’s side while another became fascinated with his collarbone. His legs pressed Bilbo’s thighs together beneath him and after a few more hot kisses he started to press his lower body against Bilbo. The hand on the collarbone was undoing his shirt and one of Thorin’s knees moved its way between Bilbo’s thighs. The hand on his waist moved to cup his bottom and pulled him up to meet his own pelvis in a slow grind. Bilbo moaned against Thorin’s mouth and he suddenly froze and pulled away.

“Bilbo I’m so sorry – I – I don’t know what I was thinking, is this okay? I shouldn’t have just –“

“ _Yes,_ this is _excellent_ ,” Bilbo whispered desperately and pulled Thorin back down towards him.

Bilbo ran his hands over Thorin’s back and felt the breadth of his shoulders before moving one hand down the front of his shirt and running his fingers through the chest hair there. He was back to kissing Thorin and he encouraged Thorin’s grinding by arching his back and bucking slowly. Thorin broke the kisses to kiss instead against Bilbo’s neck. The two of them had managed to work off each other’s shirts before they stopped to breathe hotly against each other in the dark.

“Where do we go from here? What do you want to do?” Bilbo asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before,” Thorin admitted.

“Never? Well, it doesn’t have to be anything we’re not ready for,” Bilbo assured, “what would you _like_ to do?”

“Honestly,” Thorin gave a breathy laugh, “I want to keep to keep kissing you. And kiss you all over, not just your mouth.”

“That sounds nice to me,” Bilbo gave him a quick kiss, “I wouldn’t if you would lose the rest of those clothes. And to get a little light in here so I could see what I’m missing.”

“I would say the same to you,” Thorin stuttered, clearly flustered.

Bilbo turned on his bedside lamp and in the dim room he got to fully enjoy the book of Thorin’s chest and not just the feel of it. Thorin was blushing ferociously; his face was bright red and his lips were appealingly puffy. His eyes were dilated and shy and his chest hair emphasized his rounded muscles and created a little pathway pointing down past his beltline. In his pants he could see tenting and Bilbo winced at how tight the stiff material of the pants looked around the bulge.

“Let me help with that,” Bilbo whispered, and he gave Thorin a quick kiss while his fingers unfastened the belt and pulled the slacks past the hips, knees, ankles, and onto the floor.

Thorin moaned Bilbo’s name as he stroked the pads of his fingers up Thorin’s length before gently grasping it to jerk him off. He moved his hand gently at first so Thorin had time to regulate his breathing and adjust to the new sensations. Thorin’s head was murmuring against Bilbo’s shoulder and neck and his hands squeezed his sides and back as Bilbo teased around the foreskin. When Thorin started to rock in and out of his hand Bilbo took a firmer hold around the girth and pumped. Bilbo brought his other hand up to stroke Thorin’s cheek and drag affectionately through his hair. Thorin’s breath hitched a few times and he shook a little as he came. Not wanting to leave the bed, Bilbo fetched a spare handkerchief from his nightstand to clean up the spilled seed.

“I have to pay you back for that,” said Thorin between kisses to Bilbo’s cheek and temple.

“In whatever way you like,” Bilbo answered, and he invited Thorin’s lips towards his mouth for deeper kisses. Thorin pressed Bilbo’s back against the bed and undressed his trousers and underthings while kissing farther and farther down from his mouth. When he reached Bilbo’s pelvis he hesitated and looked back up to Bilbo.

“Can I kiss you here?” he asked timidly.

“You could, yes,” Bilbo laughed kindly.

“But, would that feel good? Should I do what you did?”

“You can do or not do whatever you want,” Bilbo answered. He sat up and kissed Thorin’s worried forehead.

“I want you to feel good.”

“I already feel quite lovely, thank you.”

“Bilbo, _please,_ ” Thorin persisted, “I don’t know what to do to make you feel as good as I felt. And I want to make you feel that good.”

“I could talk you through it if that’s what you want, but anything that feels natural to you will be more than enough for tonight. I haven’t done this much myself, and I don’t need much more to reach a climax, honestly,” Bilbo admitted, “you were doing very well on your own earlier.”

Thorin gave a small pleased smile and lifted his fingers to feel around the base of the penis like Bilbo had done earlier. Bilbo’s eyes fluttered closed as Thorin took his explorations a little further. His other hand massaged Bilbo’s inner thigh and Bilbo let his head fall back down onto the mattress. Thorin moved his spare hand to Bilbo’s bottom and lifted him higher into his lap while he lowered his head to continue kissing around the inner thigh. Bilbo hooked one leg around Thorin’s shoulder. Bilbo’s breathing became more erratic as he approached orgasm and Thorin pulled more firmly and quickly on his member while gently biting into the meat of his thigh. Bilbo came with a desperate moan and Thorin continued to kiss him on the thigh for a while before moving his kisses back up to Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo passed him the handkerchief to clean up and cuddled back together under the covers with wide smiles and happy giggles.

“I love you,” Thorin told him as Bilbo shut the lights back off.

“And I am well on my way to loving you, too,” he snuggled back into Thorin’s arms. “And you know, if that was you being shy on your first time, then you soon be vicious in bed,” Bilbo teased.

“I’m sorry, was the bite too much? I tried to do what felt natural, as you said, but –”

“No, no, that’s a good thing! It’s a very good thing,” he sighed.

Some wind picked up outside the window and brushed the naked branches of trees to tap lightly and rhythmically against the glass. The breeze raked over the drying grasses and pulled the dead leaves along like whispers in curious minds. Despite this none of the candles of jack o’ lanterns went out in the swaying air. Lost spirits curled around the flames in their new caskets of gourd-flesh and the corn-yellow moon hung like a beacon to many curses and ghouls beyond even the scope of Erebor. But the small house of Bag-End, with its pillars of guarding oak and a sea of acorns, was sheltered from the magic of the Halloween night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, did I say this was going to be posted on Halloween day? Well obviously that didn't work out. I was working on this up to and on Halloween day, but things happened and I finished my last hellish year of my undergrad degree. So now I want to get this out of the way - and it's almost over! Whew!
> 
> Eventually I'll write more smutty sex scenes, but probably in a separate fic in the same series as this one. My friends have at times demanded some very nasty smut involving Thorin's decapitated head which probably isn't for everyone.
> 
> If you're not aware, cul-de-sac is French and translates as the bottom of a bag. (Or bag ass.)


	23. All Hallows' Day

Bilbo had woken Thorin up early to take him a shopping excursion for farewell presents. It was not just farewell for Bilbo; this would be the longest time Thorin had spent away from Erebor in centuries. It was only a couple of months but Thorin was nervous about suddenly leaving his family and comrades for so long. Buying gifts seemed to soothe his anxiety.

With an employee’s help they managed to pick out a videogame console and a few games for Kili and Fili. Bilbo was determined to find gifts that would stretch thoughtfulness and modern technology as far as his budget would allow. He picked out a kindle that came pre-downloaded with thousands of books and a new mixer for Bombur’s kitchen. Thorin didn’t think the mixer to be the wisest purchase since Bombur could mix by hand, but Bilbo assured him that the mixer makes baking at least two-hundred and thirty percent easier and was well worth it.

Whenever they stopped to eat Bilbo made sure they got dishes Thorin had never eaten before. Apparently this meant lots of foods with cutesy names and food colouring.

“Boba tea? Is it another cold tea?”

“More creamy. You can eat those bubbly things at the bottom, they’re tapioca. I have to say, though, I thought you wouldn’t have been as familiar with foreign dishes as you are.”

Thorin snorted, “You’ve been eating our traditional dishes because of Hallowtide. But there are doorways in Erebor that lead to many places in the world. And food certainly isn’t new.”

“Don’t go taking the high road with me.  A medieval European gushing over bibimbap is justifiably outlandish.”

Most of the stores hadn’t taken down their Halloween decorations yet but some had been eager to switch over to Christmas as soon as possible. Bilbo had to drag Thorin along to keep him from grinding his teeth at a couple of the displays. “It’s only going to get worse,” Bilbo reminded him.

“It’s not even past All Hallows’ Day! They have no respect! They should at least wait until after the Day of the Dead.”

“That’s not Halloween, though.”

“No, but the original intentions of the holiday and its association with the autumnal equinox warrants some deference.”

“I will consider you the authority on the matter,” he rolled his eyes.

Bilbo had him pick out as many on sale Halloween decorations as he wanted and they bought a couple bags worth of novelty chocolates and candies. It was still early in the afternoon when they browsed for their last gift: a camera. Ori would often create portraits of them all in Erebor but they agreed a camera was very different. There had been some experimentation with establishing a dark room in the castle before but no one had managed to quite figure out the process from the manuals and books they grabbed last minute in Halloweens past.

“If you get a digital camera with lots of storage then you can get all of your photos done once a year on Halloween. Or you can do polaroid, it’s making a comeback. The photos aren’t as big or nice but you would get them right away.”

“What’s this?” asked Thorin pointing to a small personal photo printer below the row of cameras, “It says it prints digital photos. That sounds like the best option.”

“I think you need a computer, though. Oh, no, this one says it can plug in directly. I wonder how expensive the ink and paper is, though.”

“Would it be more expensive than the polaroids?”

“I think yes. Colour ink is very expensive, but polaroids don’t use ink. Blast it, we really should ask someone who works here, if only I could find such a person. Is this store abandoned?”

“Let’s wait. These are quite expensive and you already spent so much on the games for Kili and Fili. We could bring the camera back as a Christmas present.”

“You’re right. More time to research would go a long way. Maybe we should get Ori some new watercolours to tide Erebor over until then?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo tenderly, “That is a kind thought, but I’m sure whatever watercolours we pick out would not be the right ones to Ori. He’s very particular.”

“All artists are, I suppose,” Bilbo laughed.

They wrapped up their shopping and returned to Bag End to wrap the gifts along with thank you cards from Bilbo to the rest of Erebor’s company. With still a few hours to spare before sunset they headed off the infamous tree which first took Bilbo to Erebor.

“If we go back through to say our goodbyes, will we be certain to return through the doors in time?” asked Bilbo anxiously.

“A good portion of the company will already be there. And do not worry, I have spent enough time pacing Erebor’s gate, dreading sundown should pass with someone absent, that I have thoroughly memorized the signs of a sealing doorway.”

“Oh, Thorin, I’m so sorry, that must weigh on you heavily. If someone does not make it back in time you might not know since you’ll be returning with me –”

“For the first year ever, I am not worried about that,” Thorin interrupted, “Because in such a case, I am certain any of them would seek you out. Then we could return together.”

Thorin procured his key from beneath his shirt and the bark of the wood warped and melded into a doorway for them to step through. Bilbo had an especial feeling of déja vu looking back over Erebor from this perspective. At least he hadn’t been literally dragged into Erebor by tree roots this time. He also had Thorin holding his hand beside him. It was a good feeling, Bilbo decided.

It was custom for the Ereborians to wait at the castle gate for everyone’s return on All Hallows’ Day. Kili and Fili were already there, as well as their mother. Thorin whispered to Bilbo that Dis was usually one of the last to return, but since this was Kili’s first time out of the castle, she probably made sure to drag him back home early, as she had done for Fili in his first couple decades. Dori and Ori were back already, too, as were Bifur, Bombur, Gimli and Oin. Unfortunately, Bilbo arriving with Thorin caused an immediate misunderstanding. Bilbo was swamped with excited hugs and cheers while he and Thorin tried to gain control of the small crowd.

“We knew you couldn’t stay away!” said Kili with actual tears in his eyes, “Ma said we might have scared you off, but we _dreaded_ not seeing you for another year!”

“I was only teasing,” winked Dis, “but I’m glad my brother got himself together in time.”

Bombur was spluttering incoherently as he picked up Bilbo in a ferocious hug, his face wet and red. Bifur handed him a single flower before turning away to wipe a tear. Finally Thorin yelled above the crowd and got their attention.

“BILBO IS NOT STAYING!” he shouted, “Not yet! He’s coming back on the Elvish holiday. Until then he is getting his affairs in order.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied weakly.

“Well, that’s still wonderful news. It’s only a couple months,” answered Fili.

“Yeah, we can survive that, but uncle might not,” Kili winked.

“Yes, well, that’s another thing. Thorin will be coming back with me. I’m, uh, I’ll be stealing him in the meanwhile.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Does the Elvenking know this?” Dis snorted.

Thorin balled up his hands and said through gritted teeth, “No. And I will need someone to beg his lenience in giving us passage while I am gone.”

“I’m not sure I heard you. Could you say that again? I think I heard the word ‘beg’?” teased Dis.

“I said, tell him I’m barging through his door permission or none and if he has a problem with that then he can shove the sticks of his crown up his arse!” Dori had clapped his one good hand over Ori’s spectral ears.

“What’s going up whose arse?” Dwalin asked. He came up with the rest of the company during the shouting. He and Balin had come back sooner but left to drag back Nori and Bofur from their pub crawl before they were stranded by their drunkenness.

“Isn’t that obvious, Dwalin? If Thorin got Bilbo to come back and all,” drawled Bofur between hiccups. Dwalin doubled over laughing and Balin mumbled “at least Bofur is drunk” under his breath.

Gloin was the last to return, heaving a hefty coin purse. Apparently Gloin did not trust any paper currency and was determined to remain on the gold standard as much as possible. (“We might take a load of Australian dollars one year and come back the next and the whole country could be gone!”) Once they had all been caught up Thorin and Bilbo’s plan they were congratulated and the gifts were given out. Bombur began crying again immediately when he was handed his new mixer and could not even thank Bilbo properly. Fili, Kili, and Gimli were all very excited about the game console. Earlier that day they had all played a demo machine set up in a shopping mall and it had been the highlight of the century (next to Bilbo, Fili assured). Thorin pilfered a few of Gloin’s gold coins before the low sun forced them to say their final goodbyes.

Thorin bowed deeply, “My friends and family of the fine Kingdom of Erebor. Your love and loyalty have been immortal to me in these long and static years. We were always a steadfast people, even before this curse, and we have remained, healthy and rich in friendship, even after such a dread misfortune. We have been in each other’s company for far longer than nature ever planned; and we have shown more than the mortal dowry’s worth of patience, forgiveness, and fortitude in our companionships. I will be leaving you all as more than a friend, but as a tree’s limb –”

“Oh, just go you idiot,” interrupted a weepy Dis.

It may have only be for two months, but the realization that the rest of Erebor would be spending the first extended period without their leader since its cursing suddenly sobered the rest of the group. While Bilbo was given warm and friendly hugs and well wishes, Thorin’s shoulders were clasped and his forehead was met by all of them in a formal custom that appeared distant to an outsider. But Bilbo realized how much pride and closeness was communicated by the gesture.

“Aye, get out here, you’re not going off to war,” said Dwalin gruffly. He didn’t cry but his eyes were swollen.

Bilbo and Thorin took hands and walked back to the tree. Bilbo squeezed their hands while Thorin took a few steadying breaths. Before they stepped back through the doorway they turned and waved to the castle, despite it being unlikely any of them were able to see them.

“It’s just two months,” Thorin reminded himself.

“And I was only here for ten days,” Bilbo answered. Thorin gave a breathy life of bewilderment and fondness.

 

* * *

 

After a quick dinner of steamed vegetables over rice and a custard dessert, Thorin decided to retire early for the night. He gave Bilbo a quick kiss before retreating to their bedroom. Bilbo stayed up a little longer, settling in the living room with a book as to not disturb Thorin. Nonetheless, someone had the gall to knock on his door. Bilbo almost spilled a bit of his tea in surprise before he rushed to set it aside and see to his caller.

“I have come for another cup of your excellent tea, my dear Baggins. And no need to wake Thorin, I won’t be staying long,” said Gandalf.

“I would be very shocked to hear you stay long anywhere. Where did you get off to in Erebor? And how do you know Thorin is here?” asked Bilbo.

“I kept my eye on you two but I thought it would be best if gave you some space. I have been told my hovering can ‘kill the mood.’”

Bilbo let him inside and began preparing a new pot of tea, “Oh really, and do you play matchmaker often?”

“Only if the match would be especially charming. Or, in this case, if a consort to a stubborn king could go a long way to lifting a curse.”

“Really? You think I can do something about a necromancer’s curse? Or is this some rule, about if the king marries someone living,” Bilbo waved his hand as if recounted a half-forgotten fairytale, “then everything is fixed and they all live happily ever after.”

“No, although I’m sure you would make a wonderful prince charming. I’m quite convinced of your capabilities as an inspiring and exceptional person, Bilbo Baggins, and I think you have the skillset break this curse,” said Gandalf seriously.

“Skillset?” laughed Bilbo, “I am no wizard. That would be you, in fact. You go ahead and break the curse.”

“Bilbo Baggins, I mean your skillset as a creative and empathetic person. Your mourning at the jack o’ lantern vigil has already settled the spectres more than they ever have been. Thorin has been plagued by their grieving since the cursing day. You noticed, I know, their attraction to the crown of Erebor.”

“The head that wears the crown…” mumbled Bilbo, “He mentioned something about it once or twice.”

“That has been Thorin’s fate every night for the centuries. He does not survive off sleep, but he is sleeping now, in your bedroom, comfortable enough in the placidity of his most cursed people to set the crown aside on a nightstand while he dozes!”

“That’s _very_ specific. What did you mean by ‘keep an eye’ on us? You weren’t peeking through my window, were you?”

 “Will you pay attention! If I wanted to go to Erebor right now I could. The link between the spectres and the crown is strong enough to prop open the doorway somewhat. I’m convinced there is a way to create a strong and steady enough connection for the doorways between this world and Erebor to be passable at all times of the year.”

Bilbo gaped a little in shock, “So we just leave the crown here, then? So long as this connection is made stronger, then we could go back anytime and still get back through!” Bilbo clapped his hands together in excitement, “That would make things so much easier. I could sleep over for a night rather than a year. I wouldn’t have to close down the shop!”

“It would also mean that Thorin’s people could move on. They would not need to linger as suffering spirits in Erebor.”

“Well, I was getting to that.”

Gandalf paused and took a long sip while Bilbo’s mind whirred with all the things he would do and see with his new friends. After a deep breath Gandalf continued, “It will take more than tossing Thorin’s crown off his head on this side of the doorway. I tried, many years ago. I was banished for a while.”

“A story I must hear sometime in detail, if you please,” Bilbo interjected.

“Yes, well. I’m convinced the solution is both the literal crown and its synecdoche: Thorin. Thorin was responsible for his people, and by extension, for the tragedy that befell them. Furthermore, the rebellion against the king became an essential part of the curse, although I doubt that was the necromancer’s original intention.”

“So Thorin and the crown need to stay here?” asked Bilbo.

“You’re thinking too literally.”

“That doesn’t really clear anything up. It’s still confusing. But even if the doorway was made passable all through the year, would that really change the curse? It sounds to me that the spectres would still just hover around the crown, like flies. They need to rest in peace; as does the rest of the Ereborians, too, when they think it’s their time,” mulled Bilbo as he blew the steam off his new cup of tea.

“Yes, yes,” Gandalf agreed.

“You said the spectres were put at peace by me mourning them? Do you think mourning is enough to break the curse?” Bilbo asked dubiously. “I can’t be mourning all the time. And just one person, trying to grieve for a whole castle worth of lost souls. I never even heard of Erebor before now, it must be a lost country.”

“That is not by accident. The country of the Elves of Mirkwood has also been lost.”

“So it’s part of the curse? No one can remember them?”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, sipping of their tea. Bilbo was so engrossed in thought he did not even think to offer any biscuits with their tea. A memory of a conversation earlier in the day struck Bilbo and the thoughts in his head came together.

“Grief, remembrance, death, and peace sound an awful lot like the Day of the Dead,” Bilbo commented.

“You have an idea,” Gandalf observed.

“The kind of idea only a history major would have,” Bilbo laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time using a line break. It's kind of silly but I tried to avoid them and keep as smooth a chronology as possible through the individual chapters. Even between chapters there's barely any time skipping at all. I tried to make it feel like... a very long ten days.


	24. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge timeskip with a surprise LOTR Cafe!AU

Frodo, at least, wasn’t one of those assholes that starting packing their bags ten minutes before the end of class while the professor was still lecturing. This professor in particular had a bad habit of shouting important assignment notes over the scuffle of chairs and bag zippers. But Frodo was antsy to get past the slow crowd of sleep deprived undergrads and meet with his friends at their usual spot. _The Wold_ was a little small and its décor was a little bare, but its food and drinks were excellent. It wasn’t quite a pub and wasn’t quite a café, and an extra-large booth in the corner was the usual after-class rendezvous for his friends. It was also right beside _Gaffer Greens_ , his childhood best friend’s family flower and greenhouse storefront. It had once belonged to his uncle as his parents’ pawn shop, but after Bilbo had moved into Erebor permanently he gave up the space to his longtime neighbour for no profit. He considered stopping by to say hi to Sam, but he would be off in half an hour and join him in the booth anyhow.

Merry and Pippin were there already, arguing with each other loudly about something that was certainly unimportant. Awkwardly smooshed into the corner of the booth by their boisterousness was Faramir. Eowyn, whose family owned _The Wold_ , was laughing at the pair of them from where she was making drinks as a very distracted waitress. There was a quick round of greetings for Frodo as he slipped into the booth with the others. On closer inspection Faramir was trying to hide how flustered he was while Merry and Pippin argued over which of them would make a better godfather for Faramir and Eowyn’s eventual children. They had only gone on two dates but apparently Pippin and Merry had already decided every detail of their spring wedding. (In a garden. They would ride horses. Green, blue, and white were the wedding colours.)

“Why wouldn’t Boromir or Eomer be the godfathers?” asked Frodo.

“ _Frodo_ ,” said an exasperated Pippin, “their children need a godfather who has more to offer them than a life of knee injuries and sprained ankles. And if they take too many more whacks to their heads then they’ll hardly be in any fit state to look after themselves!”

“Just two days ago you set spaghetti on fire because you didn’t boil the water first,” returned Frodo.

“That is a onetime mistake! Sports are a lifetime of bad decisions,” he defended.

Legolas and Gimli joined them soon after. The two of them had very different majors and classes but they arrived together a startling amount of the time for two people in denial about being a couple.

“I received a text from Aragorn. Someone failed to come in for their shift at the stables. He’s had to cover it and won’t be able to join us today. He sends his apologies,” informed Legolas.

Merry and Pippin groaned. “But Boromir couldn’t make it either. And those two do all the heavy lifting. What about you, Eowyn? You’re buff and strong, do you think you can sneak out of work early?” asked Merry.

“Sorry Merry, I have to pull double shift for Eomer. Not so much because he can’t work with his leg injury, but because he’s insufferably miserable that he can’t play the next game. We can’t subject the customers to him,” she answered while serving Legolas and Gimli their usual drinks.

“See, unreliable these sports types are. Not godfather material at all,” said Pippin.

“It’s just as well,” said Gimli with deep offense, “there’s no need for any extra muscle because I will be there. Something our youngest friends here have forgotten, I’m sure.”

Merry and Pippin sighed loudly and laid their heads on the table.

Sam joined them soon after and took the seat Frodo saved beside him. Without Aragorn that left only two more troublemakers to go. But since they were pretty much always late it was safe to order a plate of appetizers while they complained about coursework and group projects.

They were almost finished their plate of mini savoury pies when the last two finally arrived. Kili and Fili made an embarrassing display of their entrance with fake trumpet fanfare and Kili declaring “Your beloved princes have arrived!” Tauriel was with them too, walking a couple steps back with her hands over her face in embarrassment (first- or secondhand?).

“We already have a prince here! And we’d be gladder to see you two if you weren’t so late!” scoffed Sam.

“I said _beloved_ princes,” Kili winked at Legolas, “and we’re late because we were waiting for Tauriel finish!”

“Send a text, then,” grumbled Sam. Frodo gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Good to see you again Tauriel,” said Eowyn as she passed by with an order from another table.

“You too,” she replied shyly.

“Nice to see you again as well, Eowyn,” said Fili tossing his hands up. Eowyn waved without turning around.

“Tauriel! You’re coming then too, right? You’re strong, you can help lift!” said Merry.

“Oh Tauriel, my Tauriel, settle a dispute would you please. Who would make a better godfather to the children of Faramir and Eowyn. Me or Merry?” asked Pippin.

“Oh, are you having a child?” Tauriel asked Faramir excitedly.

“No,” Faramir answered with a strained voice.

“Why wouldn’t one of their brothers be the godfather?” asked Fili.

“Don’t encourage them, lad, this is like the time they planned their wedding,” warned Gimli.

“Hm, well, good advice. Let’s skip all this and just hurry off to Bilbo. We wouldn’t want to make him wait,” interrupted Kili.

“But you don’t mind making us wait?” asked Faramir.

Kili didn’t answer before taking Tauriel’s hand and yelling “Tally ho!” The small group of them made their way down the quaint downtown strip before turning down the path to the park.

In the middle of the park was a bronze statue that wasn’t there too many years ago. It was of a family standing tight together. They had medieval clothing with a huge cloak hung around them. In the hands of the mother was a lantern made from an entirely different metal. It was precious and seemed to glow in the fading pale light. A plaque under statue read,

“IN MEMORY OF THE CITIZENS OF LOST KINGDOM OF EREBOR

WHO WERE MURDERED IN THE REBELLION AND MASSACRE OF 1329

HERE WERE THEIR HOMES AND HEARTS, FORGOTTEN

WE REMEMBER THEM FOREVERMORE

DEDICATED BY THE SOCIETY FOR THE PRESERVATION OF EREBOREAN HISTORY”

As they passed by the statue they all took a turn to touch the feet of the scuplted citizens. Sam always brought some flower from the shop to place on the memorial and Kili and Fili pressed kisses to their fingers because passing them onto the memorial. It wasn’t far from the statue that they found the infamous tree which they had taken to calling “Bilbo’s Tree.” Fili fished out his key from around his neck where it hung safely beside the locket given to him by his mother to suppress his wolfish features in the world of the living. None of the party was shocked by the transformation from tree to doorway, having passed between through this way many times before.

Between the doorway and the castle was a neat flattened dirt road perfect for bikes or wagons. Along it were enchanted lanterns and a mailbox that could deliver mail to the castle straightaway (there was another one like it at Bag End, which Bilbo never had the heart to give up, but it became a very useful address for all of Erebor’s online shopping). It was only a few minutes’ walk to the courtyard, at the entrance to which was standing old Bilbo with his arms crossed.

“You are all very late,” he sniffed.

Argument broke out as the others tried to sell out Kili and Fili as the blame and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, that’s enough excuses from you all. You should know well enough by now not to rely on those two for anything. Better to abandon them, really.”

“My own uncle!” Kili chocked. He grabbed his chest dramatically.

“Save it for your other uncle,” grumbled Gimli, “you know he’ll have worse things to say.”

“Merry, Pippin, I’m glad to see you two being the more responsible duo for a change,” greeted Bilbo.

“But which one would you say is _more_ responsible, uncle Bilbo?” asked Pippin.

“Merry, of course, don’t be silly,” Bilbo patted a very put-out Pippin on the back as he made his way to greet the others.

He greeted Frodo and Sam warmly, treating Sam like his own nephew. Kili and Fili insisted on hugging Bilbo every time, despite Bilbo’s increasing complains about being too old to be tackled twice or thrice a day. At least Gimli was content with a nod and a wide smile. He exchanged kisses on the cheeks with Tauriel.

“Dear Faramir! Welcome, thank you for coming to help,” Bilbo held Faramir’s hand between his own.

“Thank you, Mr. Baggins, I’m sorry my brother couldn’t come to help,” Faramir answered sheepishly.

“I’d rather you than him, to be honest,” Bilbo admitted, “you’re much gentler with the artifacts. No Dunedain today?”

“No, Aragorn had to work today,” Faramir replied.

“Tell him to come around soon. He’s too good a poet to spend all his days speaking with horses,” Bilbo sighed, “I do like that boy.”

Bilbo led them into the ground floor of the castle into the main hall which had been cleared for his restoration use years ago. Sitting on palates were a couple pieces of the original furniture of Erebor castle. An old mirror had been particularly difficult to salvage since it had shattered in the basement hundreds of years ago. But since all of the shards had remained untouched Bilbo was able to clean and jigsaw them back together for a unique display. A small cabinet had also been fixed with new, unrotten supports and glued splits.

There were also some old royal garments from Thorin’s living rule and coronation that he had treated for grime and insect damage. Thankfully there weren’t many insects in Erebor but the plentiful amount of spiders caused some trouble nonetheless. Balin had even been as kind to cut new gems with the original technique to replace ones lost from the coronation jacket.

Within a year of his first visit to Erebor, Bilbo had managed to establish the Society for the Preservation of Ereborean History. The bulk of the work had been academic and research for the first few years. He completed a doctorate degree in Ereborean History and promoted his findings to as many outlets possible. It turned out there had been _some_ preserved history for Erebor after all, but it had been so scarce and niche that only a handful of academics had heard of the lost kingdom. After having written many, many papers and, with Thorin’s help, found the original sites of the castle of Erebor, important nearby towns, and the critical revolutionary sites, he had managed to secure funding, notoriety, and commissions for memorials.

Statues for Erebor were erected on original Erebor land, such as Bilbo’s own hometown. That was the first statue created, and Bilbo had melted down Thorin’s crown to create the lantern. It was since then the doorways were jammed open all year round, and, amazingly, in the last few years, Bilbo had even been granted a permanent museum space for an Erebor exhibit.

Not yet having managed to fit a car through a doorframe, the artifacts still needed to be transported by cart and wagon across doorways, where they could be displayed in the museum as donations from Thorin’s family, who posed as their own descendants who survived the downfall of the country. Frodo and his friends were very careful to load the palettes in the secure wagons and to tie and pad each item accordingly. Thorin, meanwhile, had rounded up some the horses to hitch to the doorway-sized wagons and met them in the courtyard.

“Frodo,” called Thorin, “that _thing_ got out again and was scaring the horses half to death as entertainment. While I admit you have done wonders re-habilitating him, the havoc that murderer could reap in the world of the living is not a blame I want on any of our shoulders.”

“Oh uncle Thorin,” sighed Frodo, “he gets bored in those rooms all day. Smeagol promised me he wouldn’t leave and I believe him. Or, at least, I believe he’s too afraid of crossing his word to betray me.”

“And I believe in you,” Thorin kissed the top of his curls, “but I absolutely hate that goblin.”

“I know you do,” giggled Frodo, “were you at least gentle locking him back up in his rooms?”

“It was one of my gentler times.”

The rest of Frodo’s company joined them with the wagons, carefully moving it along the cobblestone, with Bilbo fretting over every bump.

“Thorin! Thank you for getting the horses, dear,” Bilbo called over to him.

Thorin had this embarrassing habit of passionately kissing his husband in place of a greeting. He let Kili and Fili hitch the horses while he extended his greeting in the privacy of Bilbo’s restoration room.

“You know, once this new exhibition is finished, I think we should do another vacation,” said Bilbo once he managed to breakaway from Thorin’s embrace.

“As long as you don’t put me at the mercy of an avalanche again,” agreed Thorin.

“I keep telling you, they check for avalanches! I thought you would like skiing,” sighed Bilbo, “but I do miss the mountains.”

“We can see mountains without snow.”

The undead citizens of Erebor were careful never to enter the half of the world of the living experiencing spring during the middle seasons. But summer, it turned out, was just fine (Bilbo always said he felt like he was dying the most in summer anyhow).

“A cabin on a lake on a mountain: that sounds lovely.”

“Let’s go to a lake where I can finally teach you to swim,” added Thorin.

“It’s supposed to be relaxing, not terrifying,” Bilbo admonished.

“You’ll thank me if swimming turns to skinny dipping,” Thorin whispered in his ear.

Bilbo scoffed, “Enjoying you naked can be exhausting enough without water in the way.”

“Then I’ll do the exhausting work.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bilbo kissed Thorin on the cheek and left him to check on his artifacts in the courtyard.

Faramir, Legolas, Tauriel, Gimli, and Sam were already loading the wagons into a truck waiting beyond the doorway through the apple orchards and snagging their wheels when Bilbo found them again. Kili and Fili had unhitched the horses and were making sure they got back through the doorway alright. Frodo was supervising; a guise Merry and Pippin had also taken up to avoid work.

“If you two want real jobs to do,” Bilbo chastised his youngest nephews, “you could call for some taxis to get you all to the museum to help me unload. We look about ready to go.”

“We’ll just get an Uber, it will take no time at all,” said Merry.

“We’re on a backroad in the woods a good thirty minutes away from the city, and unless there’s an Uber driver who’s also a lumberjack out here, I’m guessing all drivers are thirty minutes away, too.”

Merry and Pippin dutifully pulled out their phones and Bilbo left them to join Frodo.

“Gimli says the cabinet is pretty heavy,” Frodo told him, “but when Legolas said it was lighter than he expected Gimli answered he was only worried it would be too heavy for the rest of them. But it’s just about loaded on now.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to let those two drive the truck,” Bilbo shook his head, “but Legolas is a good driver and they always come through in the end. They make it work somehow. Are they a couple yet?”

“No, not yet. And Kili and Fili haven’t given up starting a betting pool.”

“Those two rats, they already have a betting pool happening with the rest of the company in Erebor, not including Thorin.”

“So do they want to bet on all the ponies or just across the board?” asked Frodo.

“In Erebor it’s winner takes all. They probably want a safety.”

“What about you? Are you betting?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, “Dis has a bet. And you _never_ bet against Dis.”

Frodo laughed, “So what did she bet?”

“Christmas day of this year,” Bilbo winked, “Kili and Fili better pull out before we’re all invited to Christmas in Mirkwood again this year.”

“They wouldn’t invite us again,” gasped Frodo, “not after last time!”

“Our first and only Yuletide in Mirkwood,” nodded Bilbo, “I can still use the guilt to squeeze favours out of Thorin sometimes.” Bilbo and Frodo laughed together.

“Speaking of Thorin, he’s in a pretty good mood today. He barely insulted Smeagol at all.”

“Yes, that is a reliable yardstick for his patience,” Bilbo replied sarcastically. “He’s in such a good mood because the museum exhibition is unveiling soon. He’s never managed to picture an exhibit in his head, you know, he has to see it finished. The first time an exhibit for Erebor opened he cried for days.”

“So you’ve told me. One day happy tears, one day sad tears, in rotation for at least a week,” recounted Frodo.

“Don’t be so flippant. It meant a lot to him! He puts so much work into these exhibits, and the memorials, too. He would have made them all himself if I hadn’t stopped him. Imagine trying to haul all that bronze through the doors?”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Frodo told Bilbo, “in class today we talked about how guilt affects the healing process. I kept thinking about Thorin, it was hard to get through.”

“Oh, my dear boy,” Bilbo put an arm around his shoulder, “You’re going to be an excellent counsellor, but only if you learn to only worry about your own patients. Thorin will be fine; I think all he ever needed was something he could _do_ to make things right. And he has that now.”

Bilbo and Frodo stood like that for a while, with their heads on each other’s shoulder. In the background, Merry yelled about how it would be faster to get food delivered than a taxi to pick them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading this fic. It's been over two years writing this thing between school and work! It turned out to be so much bigger than I originally intended and I learned a lot through writing it. I think the early chapters are probably pretty inconsistent with the later ones in writing style but hopefully you've all enjoyed reading this. At least I have it all finished for the next Halloween season!
> 
> I tried to build up themes that would make sense with this ending, but I also wanted the magic to at least be somewhat open to interpretation. I hope you all enjoy it and you're not just scratching your heads in disappointment.
> 
> I'll be going through the messages I was too nervous to answer over the next while. Thank you so much to everyone who left a kudo or a comment on this fic. I love you all so much, it means a lot to me.
> 
> I'm also adding this fic to a series because I think it's likely that I'm going to add some nasty explicit sexytimes exploring some of the creative things you can do with a separated head and body. This is by popular demand of my nasty friends (nasty but lovely).

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably include my artwork and new pieces for this as the work goes on. But please enjoy! It's baby's first fanfiction.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pumpkin Juice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347452) by [AMMO121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMMO121/pseuds/AMMO121)




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